


You've Got Sucker's Luck

by wrathkitty



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Loki - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies), Thor - Fandom
Genre: Alphonso "Mack" Mackenzie Is a Good Bro, Angst and Humor, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Awesome Jarvis (Iron Man movies), Awesome Phil Coulson, BAMF Melinda May, BAMF SHIELD Agents, Bruce Banner & Tony Stark Friendship, Bruce Banner Is a Good Bro, Canon Divergence - Post-Avengers (2012), Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Jotunn Loki (Marvel), Jotunn | Frost Giant, King Loki (Marvel), Las Vegas, Loki (Marvel) Angst, Loki (Marvel) Does What He Wants, Loki (Marvel) Feels, Loki Posing as Odin, Loki's Scepter (Marvel), Magic, Memory Loss, Mind Control, Nick Fury Swears, Nick Fury is Not Amused, Not Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. Compliant, Odin (Marvel)'s Parenting, POV Loki (Marvel), PTSD, Post-Avengers (2012), Post-Battle of New York (Marvel), Post-Thor (2011), Post-Thor: The Dark World, Psychological Trauma, Romance, SHIELD, Sexy Times, Slow Burn, Smut, Snark, Snarky Tony Stark, Strong Female Characters, Sweet Loki (Marvel), Trauma, Widowed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2019-07-25 16:52:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 98,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16201679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrathkitty/pseuds/wrathkitty
Summary: Loki's half-hearted attempt at redemption careens wildly off-course when he falls in love with a young woman who was injured in a Chitauri blast that left her widowed, able to sense magic, and with no memory of the Battle of NY...or Loki. Post TDW, Loki/OFC, slow burn, eventual smut.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a slow burn fic with a lot of plot development at the beginning. If you want to skip ahead, chapter 6 and beyond are where things pick up with Loki and the OC. The chapters in between involve a lot of Loki pissing off Fury and Coulson, and Loki explaining to Thor why he's not dead. Again.

_Prologue_

* * *

Curls of steam were still wafting from his coat when the elevator doors re-opened, revealing a brightly lit hallway. The apartment he sought was at the far end of the corridor, double-deadbolted and locked up tight. He waved his hand over the mottled brass knob and prepared to go in.

There was a quiet click as the locks' tumblers shifted, but then Loki heard the slightest of creaks - someone had crept into place on the opposite side of the threshold and was now lying in wait for him to make his entrance.

Well, no need to disappoint. He entered and came face-to-face with the owner herself - and the business end of a double-barreled shotgun. Her easy stance and steady aim told him she knew how to use it.

"If you're looking for more coffee," she said pleasantly. "I'm fresh out. Hands up."

Loki smirked; he must have taken a shortcut and returned home before he had arrived. Lucky for her, he was in an indulgent mood and held his hands aloft as requested.

"This is unwise," he warned her.

"You broke into my apartment," she retorted. "Pot, meet kettle."

He went to lower his hands.

She moved her finger to the trigger.

Loki looked down at the length of black steel pressing into his sternum, huffed, and held his hands back up.

"I have no wish to hurt you," he said firmly.

"Okay," she replied. "That makes one of us. What are you doing here?"

Recognition came into her eyes before Loki could answer, followed by unbridled irritation.

"Oh, for..." She set the shotgun down, resting the stock on the floor, one hand around the barrel. "Let me guess. Coulson sent you, right?"

Loki came by his nickname of Liesmith honestly if not honorably, and at any given time was equipped with as many alibis as he was knives. It was rare when he could not think of a reply. This mention of Coulson, however, caught him wholly off guard given that he had killed the man three years prior.

"I know you're just the messenger and that you're following orders," she was saying, taking no notice of his confusion as she shoved past him into the dusty living room, "but do me a favor and tell your boss he's about one B&E short of a restraining order. I don't need a baby sitter."

 _Bee and E?_  Loki wondered, only half-listening as he regained his composure. What did this reference? Baldr and Eir? Bragi and Eostre?

"Wait a second," he heard her gasp. She whirled around to face him, now wearing an accusatory glare of outrage. "He bugged you, didn't he?!"

She didn't wait for a reply and stormed over, poking and prodding at him as she searched for something on his person. Loki tolerated these indignities, stone-faced, until she grabbed his arm to start inspecting his sleeve.

"Madam, I can assure you that Agent Coulson is not monitoring our conversation," he declared, grasping both of her wrists and pushing her back from him.

"Then why are you here?" she demanded. "Who are you?"

"A representative of SHIELD," he replied, story at the ready, "Security."

 _"Security?"_  She looked him up and down. "You look like a Comic Con refugee. What gives?"

Assuming she was referring to the cut and quality of his suit, which was leaps and bounds above SHIELD's paltry standard-issue garb – Coulson wouldn't have known an Armani if it slapped him in the face - Loki dodged the question and extended his hand.

"John Lucas," he said, coming up with name on the spot.

"Sabrina Nolan," she answered, still looking wary. She firmly returned his handshake, and added, "But you already knew that. Speaking of, care to return my wallet?”

"Ah – yes." He adopted a rueful expression, reaching into his pocket and handing her wallet over as he continued, "I would have introduced myself, but –"

"What was up with you, back there at the coffee shop?" she interrupted. "Are you guys testing some kind of new thing? I've never felt a spike like that, not from anybody."

"A spike?" Loki adopted a confused expression. "I don't know what you mean."

"Yeah, SHIELD has some fancy name for it," she said. "Sith – seth – sither…" She closed her eyes, struggling to remember, but then finally shook her head and looked back at him. "Sorry," she apologized. "My memory is still pretty shot."

"I am afraid you have me at a disadvantage," Loki said. He knew full well the word Nolan was unable to recall: Seidr – power. Magic. Exactly  _what_  had the little mortals been up to that they were dabbling with Seidr? And how had they not already blown themselves to bits?

An unpleasant revelation occurred to him: His accord with Odin never specified the form his reparations needed to take, only that he needed to atone for his crimes on Earth and Jotunheim. Surely the Allfather had not intended Loki's penance to also include playing the role of Midgardian's magical  _nursemaid_  for the rest of his life…!

 _Or perhaps that is precisely what you intended,_ Loki reflected darkly, his fists clenching as he recalled those agonizing final moments at Odin's bedside. _Making me an offer I could never refuse, knowing I would agree to **anything**  if it meant being able to see her again._

"Are you okay?"

Sabrina's voice pulled Loki out of his livid abstraction, and when he returned his attention to her, she saw that her irritated expression had shifted into one of concern.

He apologized, made a generic excuse about having had a long day, and then continued, "My orders were simply to bring you in. There was no mention of…spikes."

She was about to ask him another question when the chime of the elevator at the end of the hallway reached Loki's ears, followed by approaching footsteps. These sounds fell outside of the range of human hearing, but Sabrina Nolan caught his change in countenance and straightened up from where she had been leaning against the back of the couch.

"What's wrong?"

The door burst open before he could reply; five armed men flooded into the room with weapons brandished, accompanied by a woman clad in a black jumpsuit.

"What the hell!" Sabrina Nolan yelped as they crowded inside. Two men headed straight for her, flanking her on either side as the remaining three directed their armaments at Loki.

For the third time that day Loki raised his hands into the air, thinking dark thoughts of what might transpire if he were forced to do it a fourth time.


	2. Chapter 2

_Earlier that morning_

* * *

"Skim or lowfat?" the elderly woman wondered out loud, a thoughtful finger tapping her chin as she perused the menu boards. "Sugar free? Agave? Hmm..."

Sitting by himself at a table a few feet away, Loki watched this one-way deliberation unfold and felt a twinge of sympathy for the barista standing on the opposite side of the counter. Perhaps the Avengers had done him a favor, sparing him from being sovereign to such an imbecilic species.

_Burdened with glorious purpose, indeed._

Rolling his eyes, Loki forced down a cloying swallow of coffee and glanced at his watch. Three-thirty.

He hated waiting. He had not intended to arrive early, but his uneasy truce with Heimdall did not extend to matters involving petty pranks, and the gatekeeper had "accidentally" deposited him in Manhattan, Nevada rather than Manhattan, New York.

The error was soon remedied, but had left Loki with three hours to spare and nothing to do. Wreaking his own particular brand of havoc would have provided easy entertainment, of course – it had been a century or two since he’d last transformed the mortals’ precious paper currency into frogs – but an unexpected downpour had forced him to seek refuge in a nearby Starbucks, where he now sat feigning interest in a caramel macchiato and watching the rain.

_I despise this realm. Its sights, its smells, its sounds…everything._

Given a choice, he would have scorched the little blue planet off every map of Yggdrasil and ordered Heimdall to never again aim the Bifrost in its direction. But thanks to his accord with Odin - not to mention five humans and their overgrown green brute - he was forced to keep Midgard under his purview.

For would-be superheroes, they were maintaining surprisingly low profiles. Romanoff and Barton had hired themselves out to MI6 in another attempt to prove to no one but themselves that their relationship was platonic. Banner was in some poverty-stricken part of the globe, in self-exile once more. Rogers was his usual pedantic, patriotic self; and as for Thor…

Well, domestic felicity certainly suited him.

Stark was last on the list, and an invitation from Stark Industries (addressed to one Luke LaFey, Esq., the identity he assumed during these delightful little sojourns), had provided Loki with a convenient opportunity to observe the egotistical fool from a polite distance and then return home.

He checked his watch again. Three thirty-six.

Bored, Loki shifted his focus to the window adjacent to him, which reflected the interior of the coffee shop. Nothing caught his interest other than the young woman who sat at a nearby table; she was staring into space with an unopened laptop sitting before her, but it was evident from the tear tracks on her face that she had been recently weeping.

 _What weak creatures,_   _still suffering for want of a leader to rule them. Had I been stronger –_

He stiffened in his chair.

 _No. There is no "if,"_  he reminded himself sternly.  _It is done. My only hope is that she watches from Valhalla and takes solace in what she sees._

The antics at the register spared him from the dangers of further self-reflection. The woman at the counter had placed her order at last, but rather than proceeding with payment, was now inquiring about coupons.

"Are you  _fucking_  kidding me?" exploded the man who was next in line. "C'mon! I don't have time for this shit!"

Fed up, the barista grabbed the Tim Horton's coupon from the woman's outstretched hand and rang up her order. "You know what? It's on the house."

The woman was then directed to the pick-up counter to wait for her drink, only to be roughly shoved aside by the still-cursing male behind her.

"Large coffee, black, I'm payin' with a card, and no, I don't want the receipt," he barked.

The barista raised an eyebrow. "Regular or decaf?" she drawled.

"Regular," he snapped. Then he turned to the old woman and sneered, "See? Was that so hard? Jesus!"

"I'm sorry," she nervously clutched her purse, "This is just such a treat for me – "

"Then next time just do us all a favor and stay home with your goddamn NesCafe," he snarled.

He grabbed his drink from the barista (who had filled the cup from the pot marked decaf, Loki observed) and stormed over to where cream and sugar were kept.

Loki did not suffer fools lightly, Midgardian or otherwise, and decaf did not strike him as sufficient punishment for such horrid behavior. He waved his hand under the table and smiled as the mortal's cup of large coffee, black, took an unfortunate tumble down his front.

 _"Fuckin' A!"_  the man howled as hot coffee spilled over his shirt, scalding him.

His voice carried throughout the store and everyone present turned to look – all but the woman with the laptop, who instead looked straight to Loki. Their eyes met. Realizing he had noticed, she yanked the laptop towards her, opened the lid, and started typing.

Strangely, however, the computer remained turned off.

Curious, Loki waved his hand beneath the table once more, this time upturning a small display of metal travel mugs that sat near the entrance. They hit the ground with a jarring clatter; again, all heads turned in the direction of the noise, whereas the woman's gaze reflexively went right back to him.

_Hmm._

He sat back in his seat and waited for the coffee shop to resume its normal activity. The odious male left, shouting threats of litigation as he made his way out the door. The barista dragged out a mop to deal with the puddles of coffee, then did some quiet cursing of her own when one of the children nearby knocked over another display, this time of bagged coffee beans.

Once Loki was certain she was no longer paying him any mind, he casually picked up his cup. A burst of thermal energy channeled through his fingertips, reheating the creamy liquid inside until it was steaming.

Her eyes stayed glued to her screen, but Loki could tell from the tension in her jaw that she knew she had been caught. She slammed the laptop shut and started gathering up her things to leave.

He dropped his eyes back down to his coffee, but continued to furtively study her through his lashes. She appeared about his age in Midgardian years, with long, light-brown hair hair and dark eyes. She had a nervous, harried air about her, and a face that was attractive enough to earn her an occasional second glance, but nothing else to suggest she was anything out of the ordinary.

_Just exactly what are you?_

Loki drummed his fingers against the tabletop and did some quick thinking. Stark was due to hold another expo in Chicago the following month. Checking up on the man now or later would be of little difference.

He took a final draught from his cup and then rose to his feet, deliberately walking by the woman's table on his way to the exit. She had finished shoving her belongings into her bag and was already halfway out of her chair, but sat back down to let him go by. Loki tripped slightly as he went, catching his toe on an invisible obstacle, and threw his hand out to grasp her chair as he regained his balance.

"Sorry," he apologized, flashing a quick smile.

She didn't return it. He was on his way out the door seconds later, but the interlude had been long enough for him to reach into her bag and filch her wallet.

The rain had subsided to a misty drizzle when he reached the sidewalk, and he turned his collar up against the damp as he headed to the newspaper stand across the street. Tabloids were a guilty pleasure of his (if the Realm Eternal lacked anything, it was a steady supply of trashy sensationalist journalism), and he could not think of a better way to bide his time as he waited for the woman to make her exit.

He was snickering over an in-depth psychological profile entitled 'Loki: Of Gods, Monsters and Mischief' when his target emerged from the coffee shop. She paused on the sidewalk, glancing to her left, and then her right. Her gaze went to the newsstand, but he blended in well enough with the crowd that she looked right over him. Reassured that the coast was clear, she turned and disappeared into the throng of pedestrians.

As soon as he lost sight of her, Loki set aside the magazine and took out the wallet he had appropriated from her bag. The credit cards he found within were expired, as was her driver's license, which listed her name as  _Nolan, Sabrina Mae._ Her address, he noticed, was on the same street as the Starbucks.

"Hey, golden boy," a grumpy voice inquired beside him.

Loki – forgetting that his Midgardian doppleganger sported a head of blond curls – did not immediately pick up on the fact the newspaper proprietor was addressing him.

"You gonna buy anything or just stand there and look pretty?" he demanded when Loki finally glanced over to him.

"Neither," Loki answered smoothly. He tucked the wallet back in his pocket and turned to leave, grazing a stack of magazines with his fingers as he walked away.

 _"Shit!"_ he heard the man yelp a few moments later. This utterance was followed by the sound of piles of magazines and newspapers toppling onto cement, and shouts of,  _"Snakes! Watch out, snakes!"_

They were, in fact, eels and not snakes, but no matter.

At the time, Loki had chuckled to himself and kept walking, murmuring an incantation to start drying the moisture from his coat, and blithely unaware that he was about to head straight into the clutches of SHIELD – whose minions he was now presently engaging in a glaring contest with his hands _still_ raised.

The woman in black strode forward, her eyes locked on him.

"State your name and purpose," she ordered.

 _Maria Hill,_ he recalled as he looked back at her. Barton had provided him quite the dossier about Agent Hill. 

"I have no quarrel with any you – yet," he replied evenly, his hands still raised.

"You're posing member of SHIELD and infiltrated the home of one of our assets," she snapped. "By my standards, that's a quarrel. Who are you? Why are you here?"

"He didn't infiltrate anything," Sabrina interjected before Loki could reply. "I let him in."

He looked over at her in surprise. What game was she playing at?

"And greeted him at the door with a shotgun?" Hill was asking skeptically. She gestured to where the weapon in question stood propped up by the door.

Sabrina shrugged and removed a small cylinder from her pocket, idly turning it over in her fingers.

"I was cleaning it."

The object she held was red and tipped in gold metal - a shotgun shell. Loki had scant familiarity with Earth's hilariously pathetic concept of weaponry, but he recognized munitions when he saw them, and smothered a wild urge to laugh.

 _Take note, Loki,_  he observed, making a less-than-valiant effort at concealing his contempt.  _When you next visit this realm, mind the gap, and remember your chestplate._

"Ma'am? Agent – Agent Hill? Ma'am?"

A new voice came echoing from the corridor, its owner rushing inside the apartment seconds later. He was slightly built, with curly hair, and carried a small piece of red-and-black machinery. The device was beeping shrilly and increased in pitch the closer he came in proximity to Loki, who bared his teeth at the grating noise.

Hill tore her eyes away from him and glanced at the newcomer.

"The readings," he sputtered, still panting from what seemed to have been a mad dash, "the readings – they're unbelievable! We haven't seen anything like it since –"

Agent Hill motioned the younger man over.

"How off the charts?" she asked as he bounded to her side and handed the device to her.

"Just  _look_  at it!" he said earnestly. "It's the strangest thing, too – we haven't had  _any_  signs of atmospheric disturbances. All's been quiet on the Western front, really."

"Is that the thing that wouldn't shut up on the way over here?" muttered one of the guards beside him.

"I thought I'd lost the receiver ages ago!" the boy was saying as Hill studied the gadget's tiny screen before poking at one of the dials. "But it started – wait, wait, wait!" he protested, trying to snatch the device back from her.

"The alarm, Fitz," Agent Hill said wearily, letting him take it. "Turn it off. Before you give us all migraines."

"Want me to shoot it?" Sabrina offered.

The boy named Fitz threw her a dirty look and turned a switch on the device. The noise ceased, and Hill focused her eyes on the screen once more. Fitz continued to hover, saying, "We've triple checked it and it's not an anomalous signature. I'm certain it's accurate but – I'm sorry – sir?" He looked at Loki and smiled brightly. "What did you say your name was? And where are you from?"

"I didn't," Loki replied coolly.

Hill's face had turned to stone during this interim, and when she lifted her gaze from the screen and back towards Loki, he knew the jig was up. She touched her ear, activating a communication device, and spoke: "I need Destroyer guns up here.  _Now."_

Ignoring Loki's malevolent look of outrage, she fixed her eyes back on Sabrina Nolan. "Ms. Nolan, describe this man."

The other woman looked at her blankly.

"Huh?"

Agent Hill inclined her head in Loki's direction.

"Humor me."

"You've got eyes," Sabrina Nolan shot back. "Use 'em."

"Just describe him," Hill said, clenching her teeth.

More men entered the room at that moment, putting a pause on their argument. Loki went to lower his hands, then glared when three Destroyer guns rose in tandem, all taking aim at his chest.

Hill signaled to two of the guards, who came to stand on either side of Loki – a show of force meant to intimidate, but instead served only to burn away his last vestiges of patience.

 _Enough,_  he decided. Sabrina Nolan could be looked in on at another time.

He silently called an invisibility spell out of the air and prepared to make his exit, but the magic at his fingertips drained away when he saw the imploring look Sabrina Nolan was sending in his direction – as if she wanted him to  _tell_  her the answer Agent Hill sought regarding his appearance.

 _Gods of all the realms,_ he realized.  _The little fool is on my side._

Agent Hill rapidly clued into her charge's weak attempt at subterfuge and took a mobile phone from her pocket. She thumbed across the surface a few times before holding it out to the other woman. Loki caught a glimpse at the screen and tried not to grimace; displayed in crystal-clear, high definition, at the most unflattering angle possible, was his face, captured mid-battle with none other than Captain America.

Fitz gulped; he had also seen the image and now seemed to be having difficulty breathing.

"Any resemblance?" Agent Hill inquired. Her tone made it clear that she expected no indication to the contrary.

Mounting curiosity overrode Loki's desire to retreat, and he stayed in place as Sabrina Nolan reluctantly reached out to take the phone. She looked at the screen, looked at him, and then back at the screen.

"I guess?"

Loki's eyes widened. Beneath the illusion of brown eyes, wavy blond hair, and his suit, he was clad in his everyday garb. Not the armor he wore in the photograph, but still, nothing that would remotely blend in.

_You look like a Comic Con refugee. What gives?_

Understanding dawned upon Loki, bringing with it an answer so implausible that his mind reeled. His vision took an abrupt shift in scope, and everyone but the mortal woman holding the phone faded away.

Was she extraordinarily stupid or had she spent the last three years living under a rock? How did she not know to run away in the coffee shop, screaming, when she laid eyes on the god who had tried to enslave humanity?

But more importantly…how did she possess the ability to sense magic,  _and see past it as well?_

Loki made a swift review of the immediate responsibilities awaiting him back on Asgard. The Allfather kept a tight schedule, but he could spare a few hours to study this woman, even if it meant going through the trouble of getting captured by SHIELD and escaping them later – and maybe have a bit of fun while he was at it.

Perhaps he might might even spell Nick Fury into sprouting some hair.

Decision made, he turned his thoughts to the Gatekeeper sent a message via the summonsing conduit he had conjured for occasions such as these.

_Heimdall, I am going to be late. Make my excuses to the delegation from Vanaheim. I shall be at the banquet, but have the Allfather's simulacrum at the ready in the event I am further delayed._

Heimdall's response was sarcastic, but prompt:  _As you will, my king._

"Casey, stay with her," Agent Hill was saying as Loki closed the conduit and returned his attention back to his surroundings. "The rest of you – don't let this man out of your sight. I want those guns on him at all times."

The brutes responded immediately. One man stayed in place beside Sabrina Nolan as the other four came to surround Loki. The barrels of their Destroyer guns flared and began to glow, ominous reminders that unlike the shotgun, these were weapons that could do him harm.

He said nothing but didn't bother to hide his smirk as Hill approached him, her eyes gleaming with loathing – and satisfaction.

"Agent Hill," he acknowledged with a courteous nod. "It's been far too long. Although if memory serves, we were never properly introduced. Shall we take care of that now?"

"Drop the party tricks," she told him coldly. "I know who you are."

Loki lifted his chin with a haughty smile and allowed the illusion to melt away.

Gasps came from the audience as golden beams of light twisted around him, shifting the hue and length of his hair, restoring his natural pallor, and replacing his suit with his usual clothing. Seven pairs of eyes stared back at him in astonishment. Sabrina Nolan, he noted, only looked confused.

An awkward silence fell, followed by unintelligible stammering. The spluttered syllables were coming from Fitz, who was still struggling to reconcile reality and the so-called gospel truth of SHIELD's briefing memos regarding Loki's demise.

"But…!" Fitz squeezed his eyes shut, opened them again, shuddered when he saw that, yes, he was really seeing what he thought he was seeing, and then looked beseechingly at Agent Hill. "I  _know_  this was the same signature we saw the day he tried to steal the Tesseract," he sputtered, "but he's  _supposed_  to be – "

"Go notify the Director," she snapped, and adding a frustrated,  _"Now,"_  when he started to protest.

Fitz had gone the colour of whey, unsure what prospect he found more terrifying: Holding a conversation with Nick Fury, or remaining within a stone's throw of Loki.

"Oh bloody hell," he said weakly. He spun on his heel and exited.

Hill turned her attention back on Loki, who mockingly gestured to her with an open palm –  _Your move._

"Cuffs," she barked, not taking her eyes off of him. "Every pair you've got, I want on him. Casey," she turned to the man flanking Sabrina Nolan, "bring her in. Let them know we've found her."

While Maria Hill and her team worked to secure multiple pairs of handcuffs to Loki's wrists, Sabrina Nolan's escort nudged her towards the door. She walked a few steps but then faltered, glancing over her shoulder to the kitchen counter. Lying in a heap was her bag, the same Loki remembered seeing her with at the coffee shop.

"Come on, Brynn," her guard said quietly.

Her face fell, and she left without further protest.

Confident that Maria Hill's agents were too busy with their task to take any notice, Loki made a subtle motion with his fingers and appropriated the bag. To the naked eye it simply vanished from sight, but its molecular structure had been altered to fit within a two-dimensional space, flat enough to be folded and transferred into a pocket. It was a trick he had performed many times before, storing items about his person by way of razor-thin strips of matter, and then returning them to three-dimensional space when he had need of them.

A ninth pair of cuffs encircled his wrists and locked into place. Maria Hill and the guard assisting her both stepped back to survey their handiwork. Crude metal bracelets now marched halfway up both of Loki's forearms, linked together by thick chains.

Stifling a laugh, he drew himself up to his full height and fixed them all with a haughty smile.

"Allow me to compliment you on your efforts, gentlemen – and lady," he added in feigned deference to Maria Hill, who looked about two seconds away from ripping out his throat.

There was a flash of green light. The handcuffs transformed into Slinkies and fell from his wrists, landing on the floor and rolling, snake-like, in every direction.

The Destroyer guns surrounding him flared, and Maria Hill's furious blue eyes bore into his as one of the Slinkies came to a lazy stop at her feet.

Loki clasped his hands behind his back and gave her a knowing smile.

"Would you believe me if I promised to behave?"

"What the  _hell_  do you think?" she snarled.

"Ah," he raised his brows in thoughtful consideration, I'll take that as a 'no.' "

A muffled curse was Hill's only reply.

Snickering, Loki allowed his sentinels to lead him out of the apartment and back into the elevator. He knew not where they planned to take him, but for originality's sake hoped that it involved something other than a flying fortress, empty threats, and a glass cage. This was technically the first vacation he'd taken from Asgard since signing his life away to Odin. He  _did_  want to make the most of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this story is from "Exile Vilify" by The National. It was written for the game Portal 2, but the lyrics and melody both brought Loki's character arc in the MCU to my mind when I heard it. (Infinity War not withstanding, because WTAF, Thanos.) [Here it is on YouTube if you want to give it a listen.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G-Vg2YS-sFE)
> 
> Also, up until about chapter 10, the bulk of this story was written 3 years ago. I am trying to go back and correct continuity errors as I find them, but apologies in advance for any ones I miss.
> 
>  
> 
> [Find me on tumblr!](http://wrathkitty.tumblr.com)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fury and Coulson are *delighted* to arrange a family reunion for Thor and Loki.

SHIELD did him one worse than a glass cage – a windowless interrogation cell.

After escorting him in and securing yet another set of handcuffs around his wrists (all the while ignoring his snide remarks about the Spartan amenities, poor lighting, and whether he might take Director Fury up on that long-standing offer of a magazine?), the guards grimly departed.

Loki settled back in his seat and took in his surroundings. He was in excellent spirits -- it had been a good long time since he had indulged in a harmless bit of mischief. Ruling a kingdom and also masquerading as the Allfather took up a tremendous amount of time and energy. Although as far as creating diversions went, this chamber had little to offer: the table, three chairs, and a large flagon of water that stood upright in the corner. He considered draining the contents onto the floor just to watch them mop up the flood, but disliked the thought of getting his boots wet. The one-way mirror he sat across from, however, presented a number of possibilities.

_What to do, what to do…_

Loki grinned at his reflection – and whoever watched him on the other side of the silvery glass – and began changing his appearance to the various Avengers, taking care that each rendition was more brutally interpreted than the one preceding.

Stark in a red-and-gold chastity belt that mimicked the lines of his tin can armor.

The soldier, decapitated, his head resting atop his ubiquitous shield.

(Loki was especially proud of his rendition of Natasha Romanoff as the Hulk, although even he felt a little discomfited by the sight of Banner's alter-ego wearing a bodysuit.)

He was just starting to transform into Clint Barton - with the addition of frilly shirtsleeves and an arrow pierced through his skull - when he heard the unmistakable droning of Nick Fury's voice.

Barton's mouth curved into a wicked smile that belonged on a very different face, which shimmered away and was replaced by Loki's own. Holding his head high, trademark mercurial smirk still playing about his mouth, he fixed his eyes on the door and waited.

A faint beep sounded, followed by the low-pitched whine of retracting electronic bolts.

"Agent Coulson," Loki exclaimed, unable to completely conceal his surprise as the man stepped into the room, Nick Fury trailing at his heels. "You seem to have made a complete recovery since we last met," he continued pleasantly as both men approached his table, "although I was unaware that SHIELD had been dabbling in resurrection. I must say, that  _is_  impressive."

Coulson glanced over to his colleague, who was staring silent, one-eyed daggers at their prisoner. "Did he just pay us a compliment?"

"Yeah," his compatriot rumbled, not taking his eyes off of Loki. "I'm blushing."

"Actually," Coulson remarked after a pause, pulling out a chair and taking a seat across from Loki, "the same could be said about you."

Loki raised an eyebrow. "That I'm blushing?"

"No," Fury said shortly. "We've been operating under the presumption all this time that you were dead. And given how you treated Earth on your last visit," the director continued, his voice growing sarcastic, "I'm sure you can understand why it was our preference that you  _stayed_  dead."

"Ooh." Loki winced, as if he'd been stung. "You wound me."

"Only in our dreams," Fury retorted.

He proffered the Director an indulgent smile.

"And such sweet ones they would be, would they not? Tell me," he said suddenly; his tone remained conversational but his eyes were now blazing with contempt, "how  _did_  your little organization react when Thor brought to you the glad tidings of my demise? Were you moved?"

"If by 'moved' you mean 'burning photos of you in effigy,' then, yes, we were all very moved," Coulson calmly replied.

The man had perfected the art of indifference, and despite his otherwise milquetoast personality, Loki couldn't help but admire him for it. 

"Let's get back to the matter at hand," the agent continued amicably. "Was Thor lying when he told us you had been killed?"

Loki smirked and adjusted the cuff on his left wrist to a more comfortable spot.

"He was, ah…misinformed. A chronic habit of his, I'm afraid."

"Then how about you  _re_ -inform us," Fury suggested. "Because as usual, you seem to have all the answers."

"The answers, perhaps," Loki chuckled, "but certainly not the advantage." He raised his bound wrists, hardening his tone as he asked, "Or should I lower myself to your base expectations and end this farce now?"

His threat hung there, but Coulson shrugged and pushed his seat back from the table.

"You can tell us the whole story," he offered as he rose to his feet, "or you can tell Thor. We notified him as soon as Agent Hill alerted us. He should be here in…"

With timing so diabolical Loki swore they must have rehearsed it, thunder boomed in the distance, just as Coulson finished, "About three minutes."

_Damn._

He knew that SHIELD would waste no time contacting Thor, but he never anticipated them being able to reach him so quickly. As of that morning, his brother and Jane Foster were holed up at a radio telescope observatory in a remote region of the South America -- hardly within easy phoning distance.

The agents continued to stand there, smug as cats, as they tried to gauge Loki's reaction to this news. He would have liked nothing better than to string their necks together with Fury's eye patch, but he quelled the urge and instead cast a withering smile at them both.

"As much as I love the thought of a family reunion," he sneered, "you really shouldn't have gone to all the trouble."

For the first time since they had laid eyes on each other, Fury smiled. "It was no trouble at all," he declared. "In fact, it was a pleasure."

"We'll be back later," Coulson promised as they walked to the door.

Loki's smile dropped from his face as soon they were gone. His mind was racing, trying to devise a means of escape that did not rely on magic or murder. Were he at home, he would simply create a duplicate and leave, but keeping a simulacrum of Odin on standby, and maintaining enough power to operate said simulacrum all the way from the opposite end of Yggdrasil was a different matter altogether. Mortals he could outrun, but Thor, he could not.

He could, however, outwit him…

Another crack of thunder pealed, and he flinched.

 _Showoff,_ he grumbled silently _._ The silver cuffs around his wrists vanished. His face impassive, he eased back into his seat, hands loosely clasped in his lap, and waited.

Thirty seconds later, Loki heard pounding footsteps, followed by the sound of arguing, which progressively increased in volume the closer their respective owners came to his cell. The security door slammed open with a deafening _clang._

Involuntarily, Loki's gaze lifted, and the massive individual standing framed in the doorway filled his vision.

Thor.

Affable, foolish, forgiving Thor.

_Damn him._

Their eyes met, churning Loki's mind into an unwanted frenzy and dredging up unwanted memories of the last time he had seen his brother.

Neither man spoke. Thor stood there, staring in crestfallen dismay, Mjolnir hanging forgotten in his hand, as Loki looked back at him, his eyes two malevolent pools of glacier blue.

Unable to tolerate the silence any longer, Loki plastered a leering smile on his face and took the first volley.

"What a surprise," he said lightly. "You never came to see me when I was imprisoned in Asgard, yet you are among my first visitors here. Would that be considered irony,  _brother?_ "

Thor made no reply as he stepped inside and closed the door. It was then that Loki noticed the heavy bronze cuffs dangling from Thor's belt, the very same magic-sealing shackles that he had been forced into after his disastrous loss to the Avengers.

His fists clenched beneath the table and began to glow green.

 _Always the assumption of guilt,_ his inner voice snarled.  _Never the benefit of the doubt._

Thor had lived with, fought with, and loved Loki for far too long to not sense the rallying currents of his brother's sorcery, and his response was equally unmeasured as it was impulsive: Mjolnir now in hand, he sprang forward, and in one blinding move knocked Loki out of his chair. Together they crashed into the adjacent wall, leaving behind a Norse-gods-sized impact crater upon the reinforced steel.

With the front of Loki's tunic ensnared in one hand, cuffs in the other, and holding him pinned in place with Mjolnir between them, Thor wasted no time in getting the shackles around his brother's wrists.

It was only afterwards that Thor realized Loki never made any attempt to defend himself.

The runes' circuit of power activated on contact, and Loki hissed as the most vital part of his being was snuffed out. As the all-too-familiar fog entrenched his brain, he vaguely felt Thor release him, and he stumbled back towards the table. He knew from experience that these first few minutes were the worst – the general feeling of malaise, the piercing ache in his skull, an overwhelming urge to vomit.

He reached out for a chair and eased himself into it, taking deep, measured breaths as he went. The rune-emblazoned cuffs were of the Allfather's design, and Loki's mouth and nose were filled with bitter aftertaste of Odin's binding sorcery.

Slowly, as though lost in a dream, Thor joined Loki at the table and pulled out the remaining chair, but brought it around to the other side so he could sit down beside him. He carefully placed Mjolnir on the table and took a few deep breaths of his own. Finally, he raised his head and met Loki's baleful gaze.

"How many times must I mourn you, brother?" he asked sadly.

Loki let out a scornful snort of laughter and looked away, trying to ignore the pounding in his head.

"Given that you held a celebration after my first death, I believe the number remains at one," he said. "Oh, don't trouble yourself, Thor," he scoffed when he saw his brother flinch, "I'll do nothing that requires you to count higher than two."

"I watched you die!" Thor protested, voice rising. "I  _felt_  it, when you..." He stopped short and he shook his head, swallowing hard. "How – how is this possible?" he rasped when he was able to speak again. "Why would you do such a thing – to me, to Father? I knew you were capable of cruelty, brother, but resort to such depths as –"

"Cruelty?" Loki repeated incredulously, cutting him off. The one part of him that the cuffs did not subdue, it seemed, was his temper. _"You,_  who abandoned me on Svartalfheim after I saved your useless hide,  _and_  your precious Jane Foster – twice? And you speak to  _me_  of cruelty?"

He was snarling now, blinded by hurt as he continued his rant, "You, who sit there from your throne of righteous indignation, accusing me of deceit and cruelty! Oh no, brother," he cried, flinging himself out of his seat so fast that the chair fell to the floor, "you will not lay my so-called sins at my feet, when you could have known the truth all along, had you  _thought_  to take my body with you instead of leaving my corpse to rot –  _why are you laughing?_ "

Thor's shoulders were shaking in helpless mirth, but there was an undertone of hysteria to his laughter that kept Loki from killing him outright. With inordinate effort, he forced himself to harness his wrath and began to pace the length of the room, furiously waiting for the buffoon to cease his guffawing.

"Have you not been listening to yourself, cow?" Thor exclaimed when he could speak again. "Shouting at me over my lack of  _sentiment_  because I did not immediately construct a pyre and send you off properly, never mind that we were in the midst of battle?"

At the word 'sentiment,' Loki came to an abrupt halt, stiffening.

"You never held the remains of the dead in such high esteem before," Thor continued pointedly from behind him. "Or do you not remember Great Aunt Snotra's funeral?"

"Yes, I remember," Loki snapped without turning around, "and it's not sentiment, it's principle. Besides," he muttered, "Great Aunt Snotra always found reason to box our ears whenever she watched us as children."

He heard Thor burst into laughter again. This time, however, his brother's chuckling seemed to come from a place of genuine amusement rather than sorrow. "Indeed she did," he agreed, a smile in his voice, "which is why you sent her off to Valhalla with earlobes that stretched down to her knees."

"I thought it a vast improvement," Loki sniffed, wholly unapologetic. "It distracted the eye from her face."

"Agreed," Thor replied with enthusiasm, "but Father gave us a worse thrashing than Aunt Snotra ever did, after we were found out." He paused before asking, "Was that not also the same night you set the curtains alight in our bedchamber?"

Loki's scowl deepened. He knew what Thor was trying to accomplish, and he would not oblige him in this game of happy reminiscing, this  _farce_  of fraternal camaraderie.

Sullen silence descended upon the cell once more, each brother lost in his own thoughts., until Thor tried again a few minutes later.

"Loki..."

The pleading in Thor's voice touched a nerve, nerves that were already worn raw from bearing up under the dampening effects of the cuffs, and something inside Loki's snapped. He turned, face twisted into an unrecognizable mask of hatred, and took a prowling step forward.

"Look at you," he taunted, voice winding lazily around Thor's ears and cutting into his brother's heart far deeper than any blade. Thor's face fell, and a crazed smile touched Loki's lips, dimpling his cheeks. His vision was starting to tunnel and his ears were roaring, but these words had remained unspoken for too long, and nothing would stop him from saying them now.

 _"Look at you,"_  he said again. "Making appeals to brotherly fealty that never existed. Picking and choosing at your whim when you wished to show me favour, and when you did not." He chuckled, and it was a grating, ugly sound, and he added, "In truth,  _brother,_  for all of Jane Foster's humbling influence, you are still the same narcissistic brute I remember. Why I was the only one to ever see it is a question I shall spend the rest of my days trying to answer.

"Or…! Or perhaps that was my  _glorious purpose_  all along," he exclaimed suddenly, beaming at Thor with that same awful smile. "My  _true_  gift. To see through you. To see your faults, your weaknesses, to which everyone was always, persistently,  _pitifully_  blind!"

Loki's voice was raw, and Thor found himself looking into the eyes of a broken man who was unrecognizable, yet still wore the face of his brother.

" _Do you not understand?"_ Loki demanded when Thor remained silent. He brandished his wrists, furious. "You lock me in chains, and then expect me indulge you in regaling each other with tales from our childhood? Who would you have me be,  _Son of Odin?"_  he spat, his voice rising to a shout. "Villain or victim? Brother or monster?  _Because I cannot be all of –"_

 _"Tell me what you doing on Earth!"_  Thor bellowed, hand reaching for Mjolnir as he half-rose out of his seat.

Loki roared his answer into Thor's face:  _"PENANCE!"_

Thor sank back down to his chair, stunned. Somehow, the thought of his brother rising from the dead was more comprehensible than the concept of him making reparations for past misdeeds.

"Penance?" he finally breathed in disbelief.  _"You?"_

"I'm glad you find the concept to be so amusing," Loki grunted. His outburst had cost him more than he'd realized; his ears were roaring, the room was tilted on end, two Thors stood before him instead of one.

Loki reached out towards the table to try and support himself, but missed and fell to his knees. Massive arms caught him before he could topple over and hauled him into a chair. Somewhere he heard the sound of liquid splashing, and a moment later a paper cup was placed into his shaking fingers. Hands steadier than his own helped him to drink.

"Fool," Loki muttered when he'd drained the cup.

Thor's expression softened as he read the exhaustion in his brother's face. He clapped a hand on Loki's shoulder -- almost knocking him out of his chair in the process -- and leaned forward.

"I would have you tell me the truth, Loki," he requested softly, ducking his head a few inches to look him in the eye, "now, when I have a chance of getting an honest answer from you." His voice dropped to a heartfelt whisper as he finished, "For in this moment, I have you back, brother – and this time…I will not let you go."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Loki's king of Asgard, no, he's not been a complete fuck-up about it, Odin's still an asshole, and FOR GOD'S SAKES, JUST HAVE SOME FUCKING FAITH, THOR.

Loki opened his mouth to reply but then closed it, realizing he had nothing to say.

"Fine words," he finally rasped, just managing to steady his voice before he added, "Do you ask me as my king, or as –"

"I ask you as one son of Frigga, to the other," Thor interrupted. The malevolence in Loki's eyes was tempered now; this was the Loki he knew. "The truth, brother," he implored. "What are you doing on Midgard?"

Loki twisted out of Thor's grasp and tried to look anywhere but at his behemoth of a brother.

_Then am I not your mother?_

_You are not._

Oh, what he would give, what he would do to be able to take back that conversation. Anything,  _anything_  to not to go his pyre with those words forever seared into his memory. Odin was not his father, would  _never_  be his father, but Frigga would always be his mother.

"Do you not truly feel the gravity of your crimes?" Odin had demanded that day in the throne room. "Wherever you go there is war, ruin, and death!"

 _Tell me something I don't know,_ Loki had thought to himself as he gazed upon the man who was not his father, smirking all the while and wishing he were not so accomplished a liar, for then someone might have seen that it was not amusement that twisted his mouth, but sorrow.

A flaming arrow landed in what remained of his heart the moment he heard the name 'Loki Laufeyson' fall from Odin's lips, but he gathered up the ashes of his broken soul and ignored Frigga's repeated entreaties to not make things worse. He would not defend himself to those who once claimed to love and know him best. Instead he embraced their damning assumptions with the open arms that had been denied to him. Oh, he would forgive them all eventually, but not until he made them pay for their lack of faith, and dearly, too…until Malekith.

Malekith changed everything.

"I was able to heal myself after you and Jane Foster left me," Loki heard himself say after many minutes of silence. His voice was dull, empty of any emotion. When Thor made no comment, he took a deep breath and continued, toying with his chains as he spoke. "It was a…desperate scheme. One that I was not certain would work. After I regained my strength, I disguised myself as one of the Einherjar and then returned to Asgard to seek an audience with Odin."

Thor's face darkened. "Loki," he warned, his low voice dropping to a dangerous rumble, "where is Father now?"

"Dead."

"By who's hand?" Thor regretted this accusation the instant he said it, yet was unable to stop himself from adding, "Yours?"

"At his own," Loki barked, snapping his chin up to glare at Thor. His suspicion was hardly a shock, but it stung all the same.

The blood drained from Thor's face when he heard this. Faltering, he could only ask one word: "S-suicide?"

There was a time when Loki would have cheerfully let Thor sit and stew under such a cruel assumption, but he could derive no such pleasure from it now.

"No," he said; Thor's shoulders sagged in grief-stricken relief, "he lost the will to live after Frigga died. He fell into the Odinsleep after the battle with Malekith and made no effort to wake himself. I have been ruling Asgard since, veiled under his likeness."

Loki watched with detached interest as his brother's anguished expression shifted into one of distrust, and waited for more accusations to land at his feet. Some things, it seemed, never changed.

Perhaps someday he would stop feeling surprised.

More for comfort than in anticipation of needing to wield it, Thor placed a trembling hand on top of Mjolnir and chose his next words with care. "What treachery is at work here, Loki?"

"None of my own making," he retorted. "This was Odin's brainchild; I merely agreed to it."

"Agreed to  _what?"_  Thor's confusion was palpable, and his grip on the hammer tightened. "And _why?"_

"There are those who always lie in wait to usurp the throne, brother," Loki pointed out. "Appointing me to rule under the guise of Odin spared Asgard from falling into a bloody war of succession. He knew his time grew short, just as he knew you would remain on Earth as long as Jane Foster lived."

Thor shuddered and dropped his gaze to the floor, not bothering to push away the hanks of blond hair that fell into his eyes.

The mockery in Loki's voice gentled to a tone that fell just short of kindness.

"His hope was that you would return to assume the throne once she reached the end of her natural life," he explained. "I am a placeholder, and will step aside when you come to relieve me. My only request is that you wait a week before undoing all of my efforts," he finished with a sarcastic mutter.

Thor took a long, ragged breath, and fixed Loki with a knowing look.

"And Father believed you would relinquish the throne willingly if I came to reclaim it?"

Loki flinched, and for the first time Thor took notice of the faint lines on his brother's face where none had been the last time they met -- the creases at his eyes, the laugh lines by his mouth. Loki had  _aged._  Minutely, but by Aesir standards, these were subtle changes that should take place over the span of centuries.

"I told you once, Thor," Loki said simply, misinterpreting Thor's puzzled frown as one of suspicion. "I never wanted to be king. Just your equal. To step out of your shadow and be acknowledged in my own right, for my own self-worth, and not ride on the coattails of glory earned by association."

"Loki..." Thor's voice was pleading, but Loki ignored him. He was uninterested in hearing entreaties of why he was wrong to feel that he had been the lesser son. Such platitudes made no difference and never would.

"As for your original question," he continued, speaking over Thor, "I came to Midgard to monitor you and your fellow Avengers. I was pursuing a loose end of sorts that had the unfortunate effect of bringing me to SHIELD's attention, and now yours.  _Delighted_  as I am to see you, a trade negotiation with Vanaheim that is taking place in a few hours' time is going to end in shambles if I am not there to welcome them.  _These,"_  he thrust his shackled wrists towards Thor, "are delaying my departure, and you know how much I do so hate being late." Teeth bared, he brandished his wrists a second time and ordered, "Remove these. I'll trust you to make my excuses to all of your friends here."

Thor blinked at him, startled. "I cannot take them off," he said, confused why Loki was even making the request.

Loki's reply was to lunge for Thor's neck, a feral growl escaping his lips when his brother slammed him back into his seat so hard that the chair collapsed. As he scrambled up from the floor , it dawned on him that Thor was not refusing to release him, but rather he had been making a statement of fact - because of  _course_  he would not have come bearing chains for the average prisoner, oh no,  _he_  would have brought shackles that could only open at the command of either the Allfather - the  _real_  Allfather - or Gungnir.

Loki wasted no time barking instructions: "Go to Asgard. Heimdall will meet you at the Bifrost with Gungnir, and then return here at once."

He waited impatiently for Thor to start moving, but his brother continued to sit there wearing a brooding expression, one that in another life Loki would have relished slapping off of him just for spite's sake. He appeared to be fighting some kind of internal battle, torn between making one decision or another –

"No," Loki said with mounting alarm, realizing what had him so troubled, "no, no, Thor, do  _not_  –"

"I must," Thor declared. "I cannot return to free you until I see Asgard for myself."

"And see  _what?"_  Loki hissed. "That I have not laid waste to her citizens your absence? That I've refrained from melting Jotunheim into a lake, or wreaking havoc upon any other realm that I deem unworthy? That –"

 _"You know what I mean!"_  Thor bellowed, slamming his fist on the table. Two of the four legs creaked, buckling under the impact.

"Yes, I know what you mean," Loki snarled angrily, "because that's what I've always been good at, isn't it, Thor? Reading between the lines of your oafish vitriol and so-called  _compassion."_  He threw himself back into his chair, seething.

"I want to believe your sincerity, Loki," Thor insisted, "but you have fooled me too many times. Your rage I could trust, but your sincerity…I cannot."

"And is there no hope of my changing your opinion of me?" Loki spat.

A hand gripped his shoulder and squeezed, hard.

"There is  _always_  hope," he heard Thor say.

Loki shoved his hand away, more affected by these words than he was willing to admit.

"If only the same could be said for my negotiations with the Vanir," he grumbled.

"I will take care of the delegation from Vanaheim," Thor cheerfully said as he rose from his seat, ignoring his brother's eye roll and accompanying snigger. "Where is the Bifrost site?"

Loki closed his eyes and reached up with one hand, pinching the bridge of his nose in hopes of providing some measure of relief to his pounding head. 

"At the top of Stark's tower."

Thor let out a short bark of laughter.

"Hiding in plain sight, brother?" he chuckled, sobering when Loki shot him an icy glare of disgust. He finished clasping Mjolnir to his belt and then remarked, "You never were subtle in conveying your scorn."

Eyes still closed, Loki permitted himself the tiniest smirk as he envisioned Stark's reaction upon seeing the state of his landing pad. Scorched atop the Stark Industries logo was now an intricate Norse knot of massive, indelible proportions.

"I am always subtle," Loki retorted. He let his hand fall from his nose and opened his eyes. "That does not mean I do not also take satisfaction in rubbing another's face in his own folly. Speaking of, when  _your_  trade negotiations inevitably fail –"

"They will not fail, brother," Thor said in earnest. He bestowed Loki with a smile that was all confidence and sunlit days, and Loki gripped both hands to a chair to stop himself from doing something rash, like setting his brother on fire and then dousing the blaze with a boiling kettle of water.

"You plan on getting them all drunk," he accused, correctly anticipating his brother's plan for establishing diplomatic relations.

"Midgard sports a number of beverages that I am sure will be to everyone's liking," Thor shrugged. "Are you familiar with the 'boilermaker?' "

Loki threw him a dirty look.

"I will have to ask Jane's advice on the best manner in which to transport the tankards," Thor was saying, now sounding a little distracted.

"What is SHIELD to do with me in the interim?" Loki asked irritably. He could care less how Thor and his pet mortal planned to ferry libations through the Bifrost, unless perhaps several caskets ended up smashed atop Heimdall's head, followed by Jane Foster wiping him dry with an angry cat. Then Loki would care very much indeed.

Thor's smile faded. "I will share with them what you have told me," he answered as he came to stand before him, "and that you are not to be harmed or in any way mistreated until I return."

"What a _tremendous_ idea," Loki exclaimed; Thor, knowing full-well that Loki was mocking him, quirked his mouth in exasperation and said nothing as his brother continued, "I've no doubt that Director Fury and his peons will take you at your word when you tell them the good news of my reform. Or maybe you plan to convince them by knocking their heads together with Mjolnir, and if that is the case, then by all means, start swinging."

"Actually," Thor replied, a perplexed look coming over his face, "they may not need much convincing at all. As I was preparing to leave, Jane said there was mention of SHIELD needing your assistance – something concerning a mortal."

 _Sabrina Nolan._ Well, perhaps this wouldn't be a completely wasted trip.

"I will return as fast as I am able," Thor said, turning to leave. "What shall I tell them if they ask for you?" he asked, then corrected himself, saying, "I mean, if they ask for…for Father?"

Loki was only half-listening, having clasped both hands over his face in an attempt to block out some of the harsh light beaming from overhead. His hands slid apart, fingertips coming to press into either side of his temples.

"Brother?"

"Tell them Odin is observing the anniversary of his Aunt Snotra's death in solitude," Loki sighed, "and so sent the mighty Thor in his stead."

Thor gave him a heartfelt smile. Then, out of deference to Loki's hatred of long, drawn-out farewells (or fear of the reaction he would get if he attempted to embrace him), he left without saying another word, the retreating echo of his footsteps serving as his goodbye.

Loki turned away from the door, closed his eyes, and tried not to dwell on how long it would be until he heard that lumbering gait once more.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter the Chitauri scepter. Because a family reunion just wasn't fun enough.

Four armed sentinels shuffled into the room and re-assumed their posts at the door after Thor's departure. Their silent message of force was clear:  _We're watching you. Don't try anything._ No one commented on the remains of the destroyed rolling chair scattered about the floor.

Loki sank into another seat and closed eyes, directing his energies inward, trying to alleviate his headache with a relaxation technique he and Thor learned in their youth while visiting Alfheim.

_Breathe in for eight, breathe out for ten. Breathe in for eight, breathe out for ten…_

It wasn't working. He tried again.

_Hit Thor with Mjolnir eight times; breathe out for ten…Hit Thor with Mjolnir eight times; breathe out for ten…_

Loki was on his fifth iteration of hitting Thor with Mjolnir in for eight and breathing out for ten when the guards moved aside. Coulson and Fury had come to darken his doorstep once more, this time bearing gifts: The former carried a portfolio, and the latter held an item that Loki had mislaid while battling the Avengers three years prior – the Chitauri scepter.

His blood ran cold.

_Oh, gods. No. Not this._

Loki brought the image of his mother to the forefront of his mind, canted his chin, and fixed both men with his haughtiest smile.

"Enjoying the view?" Fury asked nonsensically.

The Director's words fell on deaf ears. Another voice, sweet and sibilant, was commanding Loki's attention, audible only to him.

 _It's been a long time,_ it purred. _How I've missed you._

Bile surged over his tongue. He choked it back and tore his gaze from the scepter to look at Fury.

"If this is your idea of humour," he warned, letting the Director's visage fill his vision and holding onto that sight like a lifeline, "I do not find it amusing."

"Do I  _look_  like I'm smiling?" Fury retorted.

He set the golden staff down in front of Loki and then stepped away, eye gleaming with interest as Loki recoiled and began inching his chair back from the table.

"We're testing a theory," the Director continued. "What happens when 'glorious purpose' gets too close to 'real power.' "

Loki could not think of a proper rejoinder to Fury's taunt. He was trying to look anywhere but at the scepter, but it called to him, its siren song reminding him of how safe he'd felt when he last clasped in his hands, and how easy it would be to feel that way once more…

_You've missed me. As much as I have missed you, you have missed me. I know it; I can tell._

Was it his imagination or was the jewel glowing brighter than before?

Again he forced his gaze away, his eyes boring into Fury and Coulson with such desperate intensity that both men cast an uneasy glance at one another. Perhaps this had not been their wisest move.

"Test your theories elsewhere," Loki growled, infusing his voice with as much venom as he could muster. The blood was pounding in his ears, and his vision was starting to shift to blue. "I am no experiment –"

The scepter:  _This is our second chance, don't you see? It's what we've been waiting for!_

Loki's hands gave an involuntary twitch beneath the table.

 _Frigga, Frigga, remember your promise to Frigga,_  he tried to remind himself. He'd come too far, given up too much to sacrifice it all on the altar of madness. No, he would not, would  _not_  traverse this path a second time –

 _Shhh,_ the voice soothed, _hush yourself. Stop fighting, my king – for you_ are _a king, you were_ born _to be a king; I knew it the minute I saw you, even before He gave me to you. And it will be different this time; you'll see. It wasn't your fault that everyone interfered and ruined everything._

These words were a caress to his fractured heart, which had bled with the wounds of betrayal and defeat for so long that he was no longer certain where despair ended and happiness began. All his life he'd ached for someone, anyone, other than Frigga to believe in him implicitly, to see him for his own worth. For the second time, that opportunity was now within his grasp. If he resisted, who knew if he would ever be granted another chance?

His tenuous grip on sanity slipped a bit more.

_Reach for me now and I'll show you the path. We can make it happen together, but I need your help, and you need mine, just as you've always needed me…_

A blue haze had settled over Loki's eyes and his ears, but somehow Fury's voice cut through the miasma, and he doggedly tethered what was left of his brain to it.

"We were no more than an experiment to you when you came to our planet three years ago," the Director was saying.

"And unless – you are hoping – for a repeat – performance," Loki panted, his words coming out in short, agonized breaths, "you will get that –  _thing_  – out of my sight  _– now!"_

Blue, blue, everything was so  _blue_  –

 _Look at me,_  the scepter coaxed.  _You don't have to be alone anymore. Stretch out your hands, hold me tight, and then let fly._

He was drowning in azure; he would not be able to hold out much longer.

 _Whatever I do next, Mother,_  he thought,  _forgive me._

"Get it out of here," Coulson suddenly told Fury. He turned away and walked over to the water cooler, yanking a paper cup from the stack with greater force than he intended. He wasn't going to risk whatever soul he had left by bearing witness to needless suffering. Besides, even if he was falling for another one of Loki's tricks, the guards holding the Destroyer guns would make quick work of the bastard anyway.

The Director didn't move a muscle. "You sure?"

"I said, get it out!" Coulson snapped, whipping his head around to glare at the Director.

Fury wordlessly picked up the staff and handed it off to one of the security guards. The guard started for the door but took one last glance at the demigod seated at the table, whose eyes were glimmering with barely-contained madness.

Concealing his shudder, the guard broke eye contact and made a hasty exit.

Upon the scepter's retreat, the vice-like grip upon Loki's psyche instantly began to ease. He took a gasp of air, breaking the surface of blue that had nearly engulfed him. Chaos still beckoned and he remained on the brink, but now he was able to take a tentative step away from the edge.

Coulson, still lingering by the water cooler, cast a sidelong glance at Loki and wondered if he had made the right call. The would-be conqueror was already starting to show signs of marginal improvement.

"You are all of you more foolish than I ever gave you credit for," Loki breathed after a time. Yet another cup of water came into view, shoved in his direction by an inscrutable Coulson.  _How strange,_  he mused.  _Was this pity?_

"You mean about the scepter?" Coulson gave a noncommittal shrug and went to sit down at the table, resting his hands atop the portfolio he had carried inside with him. "It was Thor's idea."

Loki reached for the cup, drained the contents, and wiped his mouth with an elegant thumb and forefinger.

"I'm impressed," he said with some of his usual arrogance. "Taking advice from one as lunkheaded as Thor is sinking to new depths, even by SHIELD's standards."

Fury rolled his eyes and turned to address the remaining guards.

"Dismissed," he instructed, "I think we'll be just fine here. And, yes," he added as he made a slow approach towards the table, "we were following a recommendation from Thor. We needed a way to know for sure whether or not you pose a threat to us, and he said the cuffs would prevent you from being able to use the staff."

It was all Loki could do to not laugh. His brother's recommendation could not have been more wrong. The scepter's destructive properties did not rely upon his magic, but rather his consciousness. Had he been just a little more tempted, or the guard just a little less timely in leaving, he would have brought chaos down upon them all. And  _enjoyed_  it.

He chose to keep this information to himself, however, and instead plastered a simpering smile across his lips.

"And did I perform to your liking?"

"We're not looking for an encore, if that's what you're asking," Coulson replied as Fury took a seat beside him. "But -- why didn't you take it?"

Loki's smile hardened.

"Is that disappointment I hear, Agent Coulson?"

"No. Just curious about what goes on in that head of yours."

"Which brings us to our main topic of discussion," Fury interjected before Loki could respond. He clasped his hands before him and looked directly at Loki. "Dr. Selvig said you can read minds. Is that correct?"

Loki made a show of examining his fingernails. "Dr. Selvig gives me far more credit than I deserve." 

"Just answer the damn question," Fury said.

Curiosity outstripped the irritation Loki felt at the Director's lack of deference, and he answered, "To a limited extent, yes. Why do you ask?"

 _"How_ limited?" Fury pressed.

Loki gave the Director a knowing smirk and sat back in his seat.

"Gentlemen, as much as I'm enjoying this discussion," he announced dryly, "which is to say, I'm not – in the interest of time, I'll let you on a secret: I am quite aware of Sabrina Nolan's little sixth sense. So why not return the favour and explain to me your sudden interest in my facility as a telepath?"

Coulson looked to Fury, who gave a curt nod.

"Sabrina used to work for Tony Stark," Coulson began. "She was part of one of his community outreach programs. Her husband worked there, too. They were both in New York that day. Chitauri came into the building they worked out of, and..."

"Slaughtered them all," Loki finished in a dull mutter. He would be incredibly irritated if this entire conversation proved to be a re-hashing of his sins against humanity.

"Yes," the agent nodded. "Everyone  _but_  her. We don't know if she was spared or if she just got lucky. She was transported to one of the field hospitals, and then to a psychiatric hospital."

Loki frowned, hearing this last part.

"For what reason?"

Coulson seemed to hesitate before asking, "Are you familiar with PTSD?"

"No," Loki answered with a put-upon sigh, "but I am sure you are about to enlighten me."

"Post-traumatic stress disorder," he supplied. "It's an anxiety disorder that can develop after someone's been though extreme emotional trauma – you look amused."

Loki imperiously waved a hand for the man to continue. "I never fail to be amazed by the many frailties of your species. Go on."

Coulson's default expression of benign indifference shifted into one of thinly-veiled contempt, a stark contrast to his colleague, who was making no effort to hide his disgust with Loki.

"I would say she comes by her frailties honestly," Coulson replied. "She didn't just lose her husband in that blast. She was four months pregnant."

Loki's smug smile faltered for a fleeting moment, and something that might have been guilt began burrowing its way into his chest.

This baffled him. He was a seasoned warrior and understood the grim reality of battle. Collateral damage was almost always inevitable, and this was not the first time his hands had been stained with the blood of innocents.

In his peripheral vision he saw Fury watching him with an accusatory expression. Loki's anger surged in response, and it became easy for him to banish away the encroaching fingers of remorse, the ones with which Odin had been so determined to strangle him.

 _Hypocrites,_ he thought in disgust. 

"PTSD is what got her sent to the psychiatric hospital," Coulson continued, picking up the rest of the story when Loki remained silent, "but the hallucinations she was having were what kept her there. Tony got wind of what happened and had her moved to one of our facilities to finish out her rehab. She wasn't one of his higher-ups, but he takes care of his people, and it became clear pretty quickly that she wasn't actually hallucinating."

Loki's eyes narrowed. "What was she seeing?" 

"A form of energy that we've never encountered before," Fury answered. "Until you...and the scepter you left behind."

Loki's jaw tightened at the mention of the scepter, and something akin to satisfaction might have gleamed in Fury's eye when he saw Loki's reaction.

"Your little hissy fit," he said, "had the one advantage of making us realize how vulnerable we really are. And so we've started taking steps to protect ourselves, to make sure the Earth is ready for whatever else might drop out of the sky next."

Loki could not quite believe the implications of what he was hearing. He knew mortals were idiots, but this was beyond the pale.

"And you are using the  _scepter_  to aid in these efforts?" he exclaimed.

Both men nodded in the affirmative.

"Tony and Dr. Banner have been running tests on it since you and Thor took the Tesseract back to Asgard," Coulson explained. "Their research started going a lot faster once Tony figured out Sabrina wasn't psychotic. Whatever happened that day left her with the ability to sense this energy, and we think it's related to the scepter."

Loki let out a mirthless laugh.

"You are children playing with fire, all of you," he declared. "That this realm is still standing speaks to your ignorance. Pray tell, what is it that you intend to do with your discoveries?"

"We're going to do whatever we can to protect our planet," Coulson replied, choosing to ignore Loki's mocking tone. "Right now, this is our best lead. But until Sabrina's memory comes back, we're at a dead end. We've got one of the best psychiatrists in the country working with her to try and piece together what happened, but it's been slow going. That's where you come in."

Loki started to chuckle.

"You are really so desperate that you would set  _me_  to work at reading her mind?"

Fury cocked an eyebrow.

"Are you saying you aren't up to the challenge?"

"I am more than up to the challenge, Director," Loki retorted, "but that is entirely beside the point. Gentlemen, what you are suggesting is not one of your crude mortal magic tricks involving rodents and hats," he informed them. "It requires faith. It requires trust. It requires the implicit belief that the conduit – in this case, myself – will do no harm. So I ask you, what reason could your Sabrina Nolan possibly have to trust the man who effectively killed her husband?"

He paused, allowing his words to sink in, and then continued, "She must be a marvelous actress, I'll give you that, to pretend that she did not recognize me earlier today," this was at least the conclusion Loki had come to, "but no amount of playacting on her part could sustain a connection between her mind and my own."

"She doesn't know about what happened in New York," Fury answered. "And we need it to stay that way."

Loki scoffed; did they think him an imbecile?

"My face was all over your news after the battle," he pointed out. "How could she not know me?"

"Well, for one, she's either been in the hospital or rehab ever since," Coulson shot back. "She's had better things to do than read your Wikipedia page, like re-learning now to walk." A smile ghosted across his face, and he added, "And you're not as important as you think you are. It only a took a couple of weeks before the Kardashians took back over the news cycle."

"Keeping her in the dark has been on the recommendation of her psychiatrist, Dr. Ives," Fury interjected before Loki could fire off a retort, "As far as she knows, she got hurt in a car wreck one day before your arrival in Germany. The plan is to tell her the truth when she's ready for it."

"Clearly you have only her best interests in mind," Loki dryly observed.

Fury met his eyes with a baleful scowl and remained silent.

Loki gave him a wink in reply. "I take it you are not a man who enjoys a mystery," he remarked, unable to resist throwing a little more salt into the wound.

"No," Fury declared, "I don't. In fact, I don't like mysteries about as much as I don't like you. But right now I hate seeing your smug-ass face just a little bit less than I hate not knowing what's going on inside that woman's head, and if I can put you to use, I will. So you tell me," he leaned forward and fixed Loki with a withering glare, "will you help us, or can I put you back at the top of my list of things I'd love to never have to see again?"

Loki let out a muffled snort of laughter.

"And precisely  _why_ would I want to help you?"

"Because," Fury said shortly, "if you don't help us, then you stay stuck in those handcuffs indefinitely while we subject you to the slow torture that is the American judicial system. You'll be held accountable for your actions in a court of law, and then, if we're in an really good mood, we'll send you over to Germany so they can take a crack at you, too."

"But will there be any magazines?" Loki quipped wonderingly.

"Not even a goddamn Reader's Digest."

"How unfortunate." Loki pretended to think this over. "And if I help you…?"

"So long as I believe you've acted in good faith, then we let you go," Fury spoke these words as if they wounded him on a deeply personal level, "Regardless of whether you're successful or not."

"Ah." Loki cocked his head to one side and surveyed them both, looking every inch like a benevolent god granting an indulgence to his sycophants. "Enlighten me," he requested, "while my brother was dispensing advice, did he also share with you why he returned to Asgard?"

"He said that you've...reformed," Coulson answered warily. Loki's shit-eating grin was back, never a good sign. "Or that you claim to be. And that he wanted to see it for himself."

"Correct," Loki nodded. "And once he finds that the Realm Eternal has not been suffering for want of its golden prince and returns to Midgard, do you really believe he will not intervene when he gets word that I am being held captive?"

A malevolent gleam came into Fury's eye.

"We have an agreement with Thor," he said. "He won't interfere."

Loki disliked like the tone he heard in the Director's tone, and liked it even less as the man continued, "Dr. Foster's work is currently being funded by SHIELD. If Thor gets in the way of your assisting us, we'll see to it the grants funding her research dry up."

_Divided loyalties, brother?_

Loki stopped himself from rolling his eyes and considered his options. Fury and Coulson thought they had him cornered, and to a certain extent, they did. Thor cared for Jane Foster too deeply to risk jeopardizing her work, and so long as Loki was not being subjected to cruel and unusual punishment, he would likely leave SHIELD to its own devices.

On the other hand, this would provide him the opportunity to study Sabrina Nolan unfettered – assuming Thor ever returned from debauching the Vanir delegation and and came to free him from these thrice-damned chains, anyway.

Acting as though he had reached a difficult decision, Loki drew himself up, spread his hands in a gesture of exaggerated supplication, and smiled.

"So. I am to be at your mercy, then?"

"I'd rather look at it as us both being at each other's mercy," Fury replied, ever the pragmatist. "It's in our best interests to keep each other happy. We have no plans to mistreat you."

 _Short of you placing me in a sealed chamber with Banner and letting the beast have at it,_  Loki thought sourly.

"Does that mean we've got an agreement?" Coulson asked.

Loki's mouth stretched into a dangerous smile that was all teeth.

"We do. When do I start?"

For the first time both of the agents looked genuinely alarmed.

"Our understanding is that those cuffs block all of your access to your power," Fury said, sounding guarded.

"They do," Loki grudgingly admitted, "but there is no telling when Thor will return to release me. I may as well start getting to know Ms. Nolan sooner rather than later."

The tension in both men eased, reassured that Loki remained their prisoner. Coulson stepped aside and took out a mobile phone from his pocket, presumably sending for Sabrina Nolan, as Fury turned back to Loki.

"What will you need from us?" he asked.

"Time," Loki shrugged. "Access to any information that you have on Ms. Nolan. And privacy."

Fury shook his head, adamant.

"Not an option. We have to monitor the time you're together."

"An audience is counter-intuitive to this process, Director," Loki snapped. He took pride in his work, and on this point he would not yield. "I give you my word no harm will come to Ms. Nolan, but unless you intend for this endeavour to be doomed from its outset, you will do as I say."

It was a demand that went against Fury's better instincts, but unlocking Sabrina Nolan's memories was mission critical, regardless of the means. Left with no other choice, he gave a curt nod.

"Fine."

The Director glanced over at Coulson, who was off the phone and stood waiting by the door.

"Casey's bringing her up," he said.

Fury turned back to Loki.

"Remember," he warned, "she doesn't know anything about New York, Thor, the Avengers – nothing. As far as she's concerned, you're just a telepathic alien who from another planet. Understood?"

Loki let out a derisive snort.

"And Is Ms. Nolan so gullible that she will accept such an explanation?"

"I'll let you find that out for yourself," was Fury's only reply.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki and Brynn have an actual conversation. Sparks don't fly, but hydrochloric acid does.

He sensed Sabrina Nolan's presence before he saw her shadow fall across the open doorway, and watched in silence as she hesitated in entrance. Her escort hung back in the hallway, but shot him a token glare before leaving.

Loki glanced back to the woman, who seemed to take this as an invitation to step inside.

"I didn't mean to blow your cover," she said by way of greeting as she came over to where he was seated. She motioned to the chair next to him. "May I…?"

Loki inclined his head in assent.

They regarded one another with equal curiosity as she took a seat, drawing her legs up in a half-Lotus position. One of her knees bounced gently in place – nerves, perhaps, or maybe she was just naturally inclined to restlessness.

Neither spoke. He needed to take the initiative and go to work earning her trust, but his natural charisma was being held captive along with his magic. Or maybe it was just the headache. Thor could not get back soon enough. How long did it take to get one lightweight Vanir drunk?

"So," she said finally. "They told me you're some kind of alien. A demigod."

"That would be one way of putting it," Loki answered, watching her fidget. This woman would have sent his childhood deportment instructor into convulsions.

"A demigod who got captured and then put in a cell," she pondered out loud. "Huh." Humour came into her eyes, and she teased, "So is SHIELD really that badass, or are you just a really shitty demigod?"

"Neither," Loki snapped.

The smile instantly dropped from her face.

"I'm sorry," she blurted out, one hand reached out in apology. "I wasn't trying to..." She stopped short, she squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. Opening her eyes again, she briskly extended her right hand out to him and suggested, "Look, let's just start over. I'm Sabrina Nolan. My friends call me Brynn."

"And are we to be friends, Sabrina Nolan?" Loki inquired. He made no move to take her hand.

"Well, we're to be something," she said, not put off by his icy demeanor. "At least that's what I'm assuming based on what I was just told a few minutes ago. Do you prefer Loki or Mr. Laufeyson?"

There was no pretense in her tone; she was being perfectly serious, and he reminded himself to be civil.

"Loki," he answered after a pause, reaching out to grasp her fingers.

His had just started to to bend forward to press his lips to her knuckles when he heard her say, "These runes are  _incredible."_

It took him a moment to realize she meant the binders.

She was already leaning over to get a better look but then glanced up at Loki, uncertain if she was crossing a boundary. His first inclination was to draw away, but her interest seemed genuine, and he gave an obliging nod. Pleased, she slid forward on her chair and brought her other hand up to his wrist, rotating the binder as she studied its surface.

Her willingness to be in such close proximity startled him. By nature he was not an undemonstrative person, but aside from his mother and Thor (and when he was a very young child, Odin as well), people tended to shy away from him. Simple gestures of affection – a pat on the shoulder, a friendly embrace – he had lived without them for so long that he no longer noticed their absence. The warmth of inquisitive fingertips on his skin was both a welcome and painful reminder of how unaccustomed he was to being touched.

"The details on these things are unbelievable," she was murmuring. Her eyes met his. "I'm guessing they're not decorative, though."

"No," he answered, unconsciously shifting towards her when she reached out for his other hand. "They bind my magic."

She looked up at him from where she'd been rubbing at the cuff's surface with her thumb, as if she were trying to wear away some of the discolouration.

"I know this is going to sound weird," she told him, "but do you care if I try to clean these up? I'd love to get a better look at the details." Her voice growing sheepish, she explained, "I was a  _nut_  for cryptology in college. Y'know, the whole  _DaVinci_   _Code_  craze. I even got a tattoo."

Loki was able to follow only about every other word she spoke, and grew even more confused when she yanked her sleeve up and showed him her inner wrist. Five black characters in a language he did not recognize were embedded upon her skin.

"Pathetic, right?" She laughed, then added, "But in my defense, I was really,  _really_  drunk."

Loki wondered if this discussion might make more sense if he had not been plagued with a headache for the better part of two hours. He rather thought it would not.

"The tarnish on the metal is centuries older than you," he explained, trying to sound amiable. "I do not think it will be possible to clean them."

"Please?"

Long sandy-lashed eyes looked into his, bringing to Loki's mind images of puppies and lambs and other beguiling creatures that were synonymous with the dark arts of feminine charm.

_Oh please, woman. Do try harder._

Then he saw the smile playing about her mouth. He'd seen more innocent-looking pit vipers.

"If you wish," he consented.

She jumped to her feet.

"Be right back," she told him.

She was already halfway to the door when she halted and then turned back around.

"Um...the whole demigod thing," she said, "That means you're more durable than we are, right? What hurts us shouldn't hurt you?"

"I can sustain substantially more damage than your kind, yes," Loki answered warily.

"Bumps, bruises," she ventured, "blows to the head...caustic substances. You good with all of it?"

Loki peered at her with increasing suspicion.

"Exactly  _how_  do you plan on cleaning the binders?"

She had already disappeared out the door.

No longer having an audience for which to perform, Loki gave into his exhaustion and slumped down in his seat. By his estimate, the Vanir delegation would arriving to Asgard within the hour. If Thor was successful at postponing the negotiations, the feasting would go on well-into the evening. Unless, however, the prime minister refused to be swayed and called everything off.

Loki was still dwelling on this unpleasant prospect when Sabrina Nolan returned a few minutes later, bearing a variety of small objects in her hands.

"Okay!" she said cheerfully as she sat back down beside him. "Let's do some science!"

Baffled, Loki watched her set on the table before him a small dish, an orange box, a glass bottle filled with clear liquid, and a toothbrush.

"This is a fool's errand," he warned her.

"Most of my ideas are," she answered, not sounding especially concerned by his observation.

Loki watched as she unscrewed the top of the glass bottle.

"In what manner do these items work?"

"You dip the toothbrush in the vinegar," she explained as she carefully poured out a measure of the liquid out and into the dish, "and then into the baking soda. It makes an abrasive cleaner."

She picked the dish up and passed it to him.

"Hold that for me?"

He did as she asked, and she moved his right hand so it rested on his thigh, out of sight beneath the table.

Her subterfuge was not lost on Loki. He caught Sabrina Nolan's gaze and followed it over to the left side of the room, where he saw a viewing device no larger than his thumbnail mounted into the ceiling.

Loki turned his attention back to Sabrina Nolan. She had popped open the top of the orange box, and was dipping the toothbrush into the white powder within the box.

Grasping his wrist in her hand, she moved closer to him and instructed, "Just hold the dish under the cuff here so it catches the excess."

Loki did as she asked, growing even more mystified when she set the toothbrush aside on her knee and muttered an ominous,  _"Don't move."_

Wearing an expression of intense concentration, Sabrina Nolan picked up the glass bottle with her free hand and carefully tilted it. A thin stream of liquid trickled out from the bottle's mouth and dribbled down the surface of his cuff. She was taking great care to hold his wrist at an angle so that any runoff dripped away from his skin, he noticed.

On contact, the liquid began eating away at the cuffs, releasing curls of vapor, and as he watched the etchings bubble and mar, the crushing pressure in his head started to lift. Instantly he felt his magic begin to unfurl, and Loki began to view Sabrina Nolan in an entirely new light.

Seeing that her ministrations were having the desired effect, she made a careless swipe with the bristled stick and acted as though she was waiting for something to happen.

"Yeah, it's not doing a thing. Hmm." She raised her eyes to meet his. "Humour me and let me try the other one, okay?"

Loki wordlessly exchanged the glass dish into his opposite hand and held out his right wrist.

Another needless dip in the powder, another careful round with the bottle, and a few more runes melted away. Odin's binding spells continued to linger but now Loki was able to overpower them with his own magic. He closed his eyes, let the magic flow through him, and smashed the spells into nothingness.

As the lingering aftertaste of the Allfather's power ebbed away, Loki resisted the urge to take a refreshing stretch and kept his focus on the con.

"I thank you, Ms. Nolan," he said quietly, "but your efforts are in vain."

She looked at him inquisitively. Holding her gaze, Loki reached under the table and caught the tips of her fingers in his, giving them a quick squeeze to indicate her trick had worked.

"Oh well," she smiled and squeezed his fingers in return, then dropped his hand, "Thanks for playing." She recapped the glass vial, adding, "And please call me Brynn."

"Brynn," he repeated, not taking his eyes from her as he raised his voice and inquired, "Can I be of any assistance, Director?"

Brynn jumped in surprise and turned to look behind her. Fury stood looming in the doorway, looking none too happy.

"What," he demanded, pointing to the supplies on the table as he walked towards them, "are those?"

"A toothbrush." Brynn held up the blue stick and gave him an insolent smile. "Wanna share?"

Fury clasped his hands behind his back and leaned down towards her.

"Try again," he ordered.

"Didn't you ever clean pennies in science class?" she asked crossly. "I was trying to get the corrosion off of his cuffs."

"I saw no harm in letting her try," Loki interjected.

"I'll bet you didn't," Fury answered sarcastically. He turned back to Brynn and demanded, "Why?"

Her eyes narrowed in exasperation.

"Have you  _seen_  the craftsmanship on these things?" She grabbed Loki's forearm and thrust it under Fury's nose, saying, "They should be in a museum, not stuck on him."

The Director was clearly unconvinced by her claim and reached over to pick up the glass container from where it sat on the table.

"So you're telling me this is just ordinary vinegar?" 

"Yeah. Swiped it from the cafeteria."

"Interesting," Fury remarked. "Seeing as a bottle of hydrochloric acid was just reported missing from the lab upstairs."

He didn't elaborate, obviously waiting for Brynn to take this opportunity to confess.

She gave him a bored look and started playing with the box of baking soda.

Fury's face hardened.

"Okay," he said. "Let's try this another way." He set the bottle back down on the table before Brynn and gave her a humorless smile. "Drink it."

Oh, this  _was_  a clever scheme. Loki watched with interest to see Brynn's reaction.

Her nose wrinkled in distaste.

"You want me to drink straight vinegar?"

"Just a sip."

The expression on Fury's face was unreadable as Brynn took the bottle in hand and twisted off its lid, matching the Director stare-for-stare.

She lifted the bottle to her lips, silently daring him to stop her.

He didn't move.

What was he waiting for? Loki wondered impatiently. And was this woman mad? She was taking things a bit far, even for his taste.

Brynn tilted the bottle back.

Loki threw a pointed glance over to Fury. Surely the man was about to call Brynn's bluff at any moment.

Still the Director said nothing, did nothing.

The benign-looking liquid tipped towards her mouth, and Loki could stand it no longer.

A streak of green light leaped from his fingertips and struck the bottle, knocking it from Brynn's grasp as Loki kicked the table onto its side to create a makeshift barrier for the Director, whom he could not reach in time. As the table fell into place, he snatched Brynn out of her seat, yanked her against him and pivoted, taking them both out of harm's way just as the bottle hit the floor and shattered.

Liquid and glass ricocheted in every direction. Within seconds, dozens of vapor trails started wafting lazily up from the floor, the table, the chairs, leaving pits and holes in their wake, ominous reminders of what might have happened were it not for Loki's preternatural reflexes.

Stunned silence fell as Fury stepped out from behind the table and slowly took in the sight of the melting wreckage before him.

"No need to thank me," Loki offered coolly.

Fury ignored him and turned an accusatory eye on Brynn, whom Loki still held tightly in his arms, hand and forearm wrapped around her head to protect her face from any errant drops of acid. Her cheek was pressed into his shoulder, and he could feel her heartbeat pounding through his tunic. He leaned back a bit, trying to get a glimpse of her face to see if she was in shock, or some other state of mortal vulnerability.

She looked dazed, he saw, but appeared otherwise alert, her eyes tracking the vapor trails.

 _"Are you crazy?"_   Fury bellowed, rounding on the both of them.

This question seemed to shake Brynn out of her abstraction. She started to ease away from Loki, who immediately released her and then took a step back to keep his distance.

A manic expression came into her eyes.

"Crazy?" she repeated. "I'm certifiable," and then dissolved into peals of hysterical laughter.

Fury watched her in disgust for a few moments, and then shifted his scowl to Loki, who shrugged and waved his hands in opposite directions. There was another flash of green light, and the binders disappeared. He gestured once more; this time four flashes of light appeared, destroying the cameras that had been mounted in each upper corner of the chamber.

Fury's scowl deepened.

"I am very surprised," he announced, turning to face a still-snickering Brynn, "as well as very disappointed. All of your medical expenses –  _all_  of your treatment has been provided to you over the past two years. The only thing we've asked you to do in return is cooperate, but instead you pull a stupid-ass stunt like this."

He motioned to Loki's unbound wrists and continued, "Please tell me I can attribute this to  _profoundly_  poor judgment on your part, and not a sign that you're out to sabotage the people who've been trying to help you."

The smile dropped from Brynn's face in an instant.

"I don't give a  _shit_  what you attribute it to," she hissed, taking a step forward, "but don't for one second say I haven't cooperated."

Her eyes had gone wild, and for one moment Loki thought she might actually take a swing at the Director.

"You went back to your apartment this morning, against doctor's orders," Fury was saying. "How is that cooperating?"

"The same way that keeping me locked up doesn't count as helping me," Brynn shot back. "You want me to work with  _him,"_  she gestured to Loki, "to get out whatever it is I've got stuck in my head? Or why I see things that nobody else does?  _Fine._  You got it. But after that, I am  _done._  I'm done with you, with SHIELD, with therapy, and with all of this spooky scepter shit. I am fucking  _done."_

She turned and stormed out the door.

"Is that woman entirely sane?" Loki exclaimed as soon as she was gone.

"That woman is a stacked deck of belligerent crazy," Fury replied shortly. He glanced over at Loki, and something that might have been a smirk flickered over his face. "Have fun."

Having proffered this insight, the he took his leave and exited, his coat flaring out behind him. Loki watched him depart and wondered what in the Hel he had just gotten himself into.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki vs. Apple iOS

_Fit for a king,_ Loki sarcastically observed as he surveyed his new living quarters. They were as austere as his interrogation cell, but with the addition of a bed, night table, washroom, and desk and accompanying chair. It almost made him feel nostalgic for the glass cage.

"You realize I have no intention to remain here longer than is absolutely necessary," he had told Fury earlier that afternoon as they were transferring him onto the Helicarrier.

"The feeling is mutual," Fury replied. "But there are higher powers I have to answer to, and as far as they're concerned, you're staying on as our consultant. Which means you get treated just like every other one of our guests."

"Higher powers?" Loki echoed. "I've never taken you for a religious man, Director."

"I'm not," Fury answered curtly. "I'm referring to our auditors. Enjoy your stay."

And with that, the Director had departed, escaping into a closed-door meeting and leaving Loki in the dubiously-capable hands of a lackey. Seething, Loki permitted himself to be led down numerous empty corridors until he was deposited at the door of the chambers in which he now stood.

After dispensing with the twitchy-faced minion, Loki commenced with a few housekeeping chores, casting spells to soundproof the walls, and deploying an enchantment that would prevent the door from opening at anyone's bidding but his own. He took the time to poke at the bed (too hard), and investigate the closet (the complementary SHIELD-issued apparel was an amusing touch), and in the process discovered several electronic monitoring devices (pathetic), which he disabled.

He was just settling in to master the computer tablet Fury had given him when he received word from Thor by way of Heimdall; the "negotiations" had ended with the ambassador spectacularly passing out over dessert. Thor and Jane Foster would be staying the night in Asgard, with plans to return the following morning. Loki informed the gatekeeper that he no longer required the use of Gungnir, and shifted his attention back to the black-screened device called iPad.

No technology had ever eluded him. Interpreting the Idunn's apple logo on the back of the device as an omen of future success, he reached out and tapped the screen, mimicking the motion he'd seen Coulson perform.

Nothing.

Loki tapped the surface once more, harder this time, but with the same result.

What was wrong with the contraption?

Frowning, he picked it up and perused its edges, lips curving into a satisfied smile when he spied a small rectangular button on the side. He gave it a quick press, laid the tablet back on his lap, and waited.

Still nothing.

He depressed the button once more, then several times in succession, and waited again. This time the screen lit up, but no images appeared on its surface.

A knock at the door spared his pride from further wounding. He motioned to the door with his hand, which opened of its own accord to reveal Brynn standing in the entryway and wearing a startled expression. She was eyeing the door, as if waiting to see what else it might do.

"Can I come in?" she asked finally.

"You may," Loki assented without glancing up. The tablet was now frowning at him, literally.

She stepped inside, closing the door behind her as Loki prodded the screen a few more times.

"Lucky you," Brynn remarked, walking over to where he was seated at the desk. "I'm not allowed to have any electronics." She peered over Loki's shoulder to see what had him so stymied and let out a laugh. "How the  _hell_  did you manage to get it to show you a Sad Mac logo?"

Loki had no idea what she meant by this question and settled on scowling at her in reply. Snickering, she took the device in hand and restarted it, then handed the iPad back to him; a white apple glowed back at him from the screen.

"Just swipe your finger over the line thing at the bottom," she said when the home screen loaded.

"I have  _been_  doing that," Loki lied through his teeth, "but as I just told you it will not work – oh."

Brynn had reached forward and unlocked the device for him. Her name and photograph immediately appeared on the screen.

"Wh — hey, that's my file!" she squeaked.

Before Loki could stop her, Brynn snatched the tablet out of his hands and hurled it across the room. It spun in a neat arc and smashed into the opposite wall, coming to land on top of the bed.

Loki glared at her, outraged. "Was that necessary?" he demanded.

Brynn's eyes flashed. "Yeah," she shot back. "You want to know something about me, you ask me. You don't get to cheat by looking it up in a database."

"I suppose that's fair," he grudgingly admitted.

She walked over to pick up the tablet, which now bore a shattered LCD screen.

"So…how is this whole thing going to work, anyway?"

Loki lifted an eyebrow, presuming that her question was not in reference to the iPad, which most definitely no longer worked. "To what are you referring?"

She tossed the tablet into the trash bin by the desk and then invited herself to a seat on the bed.

"Geez," she muttered, bouncing once or twice, "Your mattress is as crummy as mine." She looked back up at him and explained, "Whatever it is Director Fury said you're going to do to help me remember the accident."

Loki turned the desk chair around to face Brynn and sat back in his seat, pausing a moment to see if she resumed her fidgeting. She did – her fingers tapped restlessly against the bedclothes and one foot bounced.

"I intend to use a combination of hypnosis and telepathy," he answered.

Brynn gave him a look of unfettered disbelief.

"Riiiight," she said, drawing the word out, "And I'll bet you can shoot lasers out of your eyes, too."

"Only my ears, I'm afraid," he deadpanned.

This made her smile. She glanced at the floor, then back up at him again. "Did they tell you what happened? With the accident?" Her voice had taken on a slightly higher pitch.

"Nothing of note," Loki replied, absently tracing one finger in circles on the table. "Hence the Director providing me with your dossier. Or rather, what remains of it." He gave the trashcan a deliberate look.

She made a face and leaned back on the bed, making herself at home.

"Oh, don't worry," she assured him, "SHIELD will give you another one. I've been begging them for a tablet but they won't cave. I can't blame 'em though. Not having internet access drives me nuts, but I'm so doped up half the time that I don't even care."

Loki frowned, not following.

"How do you mean?"

Brynn sat forward again, this time to play with the lamp on the bedside table.

"Medications," she answered, flicking the light on. "Anti-seizure, anti-anxiety, anti-depressant – you name it, they've prescribed it. Jackasses draw the line at medical marijuana."

"Is that why you nearly killed yourself earlier today?" he asked curiously. "Because you are drugged?"

Brynn let out a half-snorted laugh and switched the lamp back off.

"You actually  _bought_  that performance?" she scoffed. "Fury was a second away from stopping me. You just beat him to it. Thanks, by the way."

"You seem rather certain of this fact," Loki observed, unable to keep the skepticism out of his voice.

She was raiding the nightstand drawer now and grinning at the Gideon Bible that she found within.

"Everyone has a tell."

Once again he did not understand what she meant. This was getting to be a bad habit.

"A tell?"

Brynn put the Bible away and pulled both legs up to sit cross-legged on the bed. Loki refrained from ordering her to get her still-shod feet off of the furniture and waited for her to speak.

"I grew up in Las Vegas," she explained. "My dad was head of security at the Bellagio. One of the perks was getting living space in the casino. I used to watch the card tables from up in the security wing. I got  _really_  good at reading people. Counting cards, bluffing, passing off counterfeit chips, things like that – I could spot it a mile away. Better than some of the dealers, even, which pissed off the pit bosses like you wouldn't believe."

"And what is Director Fury's…tell?" he queried.

A trace of that pit viper smile returned to her lips.

"Figure it out yourself. The hydrocloric acid was just a game of chicken and he knew it."

"But why play such a game in the first place?" Loki wanted to know. "The risk to you was real, regardless of your actual intent."

Brynn's face darkened into a scowl.

"I don't like bullies."

"Yet you continue to cooperate with SHIELD, even now," he pointed out.

"They saved my life," she said matter-of-factly. "I owe them." She paused, giving him a sidelong glance, and then asked, "So…what  _have_  they told you about me?"

"Fury mentioned an accident," Loki said, keeping his tone neutral.

Brynn's expression grew sober and she looked down at her lap, hair falling forward to conceal her face.

"Yeah," she said softly. A loose thread on the bed covering caught her attention and she began to toy with it. "Hit my head on the A-frame of the car, spent some time in a coma. And when I woke up, I had six senses instead of five, and bunch of doctors calling me a liar."

 _Finally,_ Loki thought; now perhaps he would get some more concrete answers regarding this woman's nature.

"Tell me," he encouraged.

She looked up at him through her lashes, unconvinced of his willingness to suspend his disbelief.

"Telekinesis?" he suggested with a teasing smile when she didn't respond. "Or perhaps laser beams firing out of your eyes?"

His levity had the desired effect and some of the tension left her face, but she continued to worry the thread on the bedclothes. At this rate she would have it unraveled by nightfall.

"No," she admitted. "That would at least be interesting. This – it's just weird."

She took a deep breath, as if steeling herself, and began to speak.

"I see auras. Constantly. Like I'm dropping acid, except all the time. When I look at Fury, he looks…normal," she explained. "But when I look at you, or other people, everything's – sharper. Like there's a colored filter over you. It goes away when I've spent some time with a person, but something about you guys, it just  _feels_  different. And there's no pattern to it at all. Some people have it, some people don't. And when you did that stuff this morning – spilling that guy's coffee, making the cups fall – all of the green coming off of you got brighter, both times."

Brynn abandoned the thread and raised her head to face him, drawing her knees up to her chest as she debated how to continue her story.

"That's why they didn't let me leave the psych ward after I came out of the coma," she said finally. "They kept saying I was hallucinating when I told them what I was seeing, but SHIELD brought me in and ran their tests, and it's not psychosis. They don't know  _what_  it is. They just throw around words like genotype and phenotype and chit – chitawney…?"

Her voice trailed off; the word was evading her, and she squeezed her eyes shut in frustration.

 _"Damn it!"_  she muttered. "What'd they call it? Chi – chi-something."

"Chitauri," he automatically supplied, realizing too late that he was not supposed to speak of such topics with her.

"Yeah," she said wearily. "That. I'm probably not supposed to know about it anyway, whatever 'that' is. Like I said, they keep me in the dark most of the time."

The puzzle pieces were growing a bit clearer now, and the fragments fell further into alignment as he watched Brynn continue to unravel the the blanket. Her accident had left her with the ability to see through illusions and sense magic, even very faint traces of it that lay dormant in others. Per order of Odin's father during the Jotun invasion of Midgard, which failed when he and the Valkyrie came to humanity's rescue, Aesir-mortal couplings were expressly forbidden, but they had taken place nevertheless. More than a few of those liaisons had yielded offspring. Generations later, the ability to perform magic would have died out, but it was possible traces of its presence would remain.

Is that what SHIELD was pursuing? Using the scepter in conjunction with Brynn to seek out individuals in possession of dormant magic?

"The coffee shop," he said suddenly. "How did I appear to you?"

"Like you do now," Brynn shrugged, "I don't know what person Agent Hill and the others were seeing, but I know it wasn't who I saw - like you are now, I mean. And…you tasted green."

She mumbled this last part, so quietly that Loki had to strain to hear her.  _Tasted green?_

His confusion must have been evident when Brynn looked over at him, because she tried to hide her embarrassment with a grin and said, "Yeah, I know – I'm a freak."

Loki was not fooled by her false confidence. He had employed self-deprecating humour and bravado for more years than he could count, and done so with a far more practiced hand than the mortal who sat squirming before him now.

"Is this a habit?" he demanded, unable to stand her fidgeting any longer. He looked her up and down to indicate what he meant. "Or do I make you nervous?"

Brynn instantly froze in place.

"No," she answered. "Just jittery. It's the medicines. What they've got me on right now makes me really twitchy."

Loki huffed in response; lack of natural carriage and bearing appeared to be yet another inherent human frailty.

"I have been charged with helping you remember what took place during and after your accident," he said finally. "Accomplishing this will not be easy for you. I am aware you lost both your husband and unborn child."

Brynn stiffened at the mention of her family, but her eyes remained dry.

"This will require an extraordinary amount of faith on your part," he warned. "Faith in me. Faith that I will not hurt you, or abuse the privilege of penetrating the boundaries of your conscious thoughts."

Now her eyes welled up.

"And my unconscious thoughts?" Her voice was a choked rasp and she hung her head down. "Do those stay private?"

"Ultimately, those are the ones for which we search," Loki acknowledged, "but I will make every attempt to exercise discretion."

A tear rolled down Brynn's cheek and splashed onto the blanket, but when she raised her head, Loki saw that the raw vulnerability in her face had already faded into scorn.

"Discretion?" She let out a watery half-laugh. "Don't even bother. SHIELD wants to see everything. Use me like an energy-sensing metal detector, or patent my brain cells. Some stupid shit like that."

Her words struck a chord with Loki, and he felt a sudden surge of empathy for her plight.

"Then know this, Brynn Nolan," he said, leaning towards her. "I have no affiliation with SHIELD. I am cooperating with them because I am bound by an agreement, but that agreement has nothing to do with Director Fury, or Agent Coulson, or any other member of their organization."

Brynn pressed her palms to her eyes and took a shaky breath, trying to compose herself.

"How does it work?" she finally asked, hands still covering her eyes.

"Are you familiar with the mechanics of hypnosis?" he inquired.

She dropped her hands from her face and looked at him.

"Yeah," she sighed. "You send someone into a state of deep relaxation." 

Loki nodded.

"Correct. I shall be employing a similar method. From there, we will explore your unconscious mind together, starting with simple memories and then…continuing on to other recollections."

Brynn flinched and glanced away.

"Explain what you meant by things tasting green," he requested, sensing that it was time for a change in topic. It was a transparent tactic, but his interest was genuine.

"I don't know how to," she muttered. "I mean – I don't remember the word for it."

Loki hesitated, and then extended his right hand out to her, palm up.

"Try to show me," he suggested.

She gave him an odd look. "Huh?"

"Show me with your mind," Loki explained. "Touch helps facilitate the process."

Brynn's gaze shifted to his still-upturned hand and back then to his face. He immediately misinterpreted her reluctance for revulsion, and went to draw his hand back but then heard her mutter, "Oh, what the hell."

Her fingers slipped into his a moment later and she looked at him expectantly.

Loki swallowed, concealing his surprise.

"Close your eyes."

She did as he asked, but a dubious frown still puckered her brow.

"Are you  _sure_  –"

"Quiet," he ordered.

Slitted eyes glowered at him, and then closed again.

Keeping his voice low, his cadence of speech slow and steady, Loki began to repeat the words taught to him almost a millennium ago. As he guided Brynn into that tenuous state of relaxation that hovers between awareness and sleep, the worry gradually eased from her face, and when her hand went slack in his grasp, he reached out for her subconscious with his magic.

 _Think of what you saw in the coffee shop,_ he instructed her.

Brynn's confusion about how to go about following this request was palpable, but she made a clumsy attempt to try nevertheless. Colours began to swirl in his mind's eye, melding together to recreate the coffee shop from earlier that morning.

The image was from her perspective, its edges mellifluous and hazy, but he could see well enough. He spotted himself seated at his table and scowling at the brute at the cash register. His form in the memory was haloed in a shimmer of green, Loki noticed. A few other patrons carried similar auras, but theirs were of different colours and muted in their intensity.

He plunged deeper, imbuing his psyche with Brynn's, testing the waters to see how far she would permit him to wander in her thoughts. He encountered no resistance, and senses other than sight began to reach him.

_"Then next time just do us all a favour and stay home with your goddamn NesCafe."_

The aura around the memory-Loki brightened to a shimmering emerald, and as he watched the idiot spill coffee down his front, the taste of wintergreen washed over Loki's tongue. The sensation was so unexpected that his eyes flew open, breaking his concentration and severing the telepathic connection.

As his head gradually cleared, he could see Brynn staring back at him, her cheeks flushed and lips parted. It was an admittedly pleasant sight, but what struck him was not her face but what he read in her eyes.

Trust.

"That was really weird," she breathed.

She was waiting for him to reply but he was still trapped by her guileless eyes and the mislaid faith he saw in their depths. He had told her this process would require her to trust him, but making such a statement in theory and witnessing it in the flesh were two different matters completely. When had anyone last gazed upon him with such blind confidence? Oh, Thor, probably…but not for a very long time…

He forced himself to set those traitorous thoughts aside and extracted his hand from Brynn's.

"Yours is an unusual gift," he observed. "Do you experience the same with all of the colours?"

She shook her head.

"Yes. Taste the rainbow," she said, trying to smile, but Loki did not understand the reference.

He watched fidget for a few moments and then spoke. "What has SHIELD told you about the auras?"

Brynn was examining the blanket on the bed, looking for more stray threads. "That it's some kind of electrical energy field."

_Fools._

"What you are sensing has nothing to do electrical energy," Loki told her flatly. "You are sensing magic."

She looked at him for a second or two and then started laughing, convinced that this was all some kind of a joke. Then she saw Loki had not cracked even a hint of a smile, and her mirth faded.

Her eyes widened. "Seriously?"

"Very."

Brynn dropped the blanket and her head fell into her hands. "Jesus Christ," he heard her mutter.

Uncertain why she was invoking the name of the Christian god, Loki continued, "How else did you think I was able to read your mind just now?"

"I don't know!" Brynn shrilly exclaimed. "I thought it was some kind of alien superpower! Not fucking Harry Potter!"

Loki closed his eyes and scrounged together every remaining ounce of patience he possessed, which at that moment was just shy of nothing.

"I would prefer for this information to stay between ourselves for the present," he said when he opened his eyes again.

Brynn had started inspecting the blanket again. "I'd prefer that too," she replied, "although it's not like everyone on here doesn't already think I'm a lunatic."

"We will start tomorrow, if it pleases you." This was feigned politeness on his part; he did not care whether it pleased her or not, and his eyes flashed when she replied in the negative.

"I can't. I have therapy tomorrow," she explained. "Dr. Ives bitches if I miss appointments, and I'm usually a mess afterwards."

Loki scowled.

"We will start tomorrow," he repeated.

Brynn rolled her eyes and stood up to leave. She didn't seem turned off by his sudden shift in temper, which only goaded him further.

"Whatever," she said. "My room is two floors up. Come by if you feel like having a mood swing."

She was almost to the door when Loki turned in his seat and said, "Ms. Nolan..." She glanced back at him. Hesitant, Loki forced the question out: "What is my…tell?"

A slow smile game over her face.

"You're a closed book to me," she answered, shifting from one foot to the other. "And you have  _no_  idea how nice that is. Ignorance really is bliss."

Loki frowned.

"Everyone around here lies to my face, all the time," she said simply. "They just don't tell me  _what_  they're lying about. At least with you I can pretend like someone's actually telling me the truth." She paused, then said, "See you."

Loki inclined his head in farewell and turned away from the door as it shut, absently flexing the fingers of his right hand. They were still warm from where she had clasped them.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki modifies SHIELD's motivational posters to better suit his own personal tastes, and is unimpressed by Brynn's psychiatrist. Thor shocks Loki with an astonishing moment of insight.

_"Mr. Laufeyson!"_

Loud knocking broke through Loki's subconscious, interrupting the absurd dream in which he'd been trapped – Thor and he as boys, arguing over a prank. Something involving martyrdom.

Still caught in the heavy cobwebs of sleep, he rolled over and fell smack onto the floor.

"Mr. Laufeyson!"

His eyes flew open, bloodshot and outraged, to find that he'd rolled out of bed, having been too deeply asleep to realize he lay on a surface far narrower than his bed on Asgard.

At the third utterance of  _Mr. Laufeyson,_  Loki's gaze flew to the clock on the wall, which read ten-fifteen AM.

_"Mr. Laufeyson, please answer the door."_

He untangled himself from the bedclothes and launched from the floor as the knocking started up again, more urgently this time. Who in the Nine Realms dared call upon him unannounced, and at such an hour?

Loki stalked towards the door and whipped it open, gimlet-eyed, wild-haired and more murderous than he could remember feeling in quite awhile.

The woman on his threshold wasted no time making introductions.

"Good morning," she briskly announced. She was middle-aged, with greying curly hair and a no-nonsense set to her jaw. "I'm Dr. Ginevra Ives." She did not wait for him to reply and continued, "I don't appreciate you interfering in the treatment of my patient, but per Director Fury, I have no choice in the matter. I'd like to discuss us working together."

Loki glowered down at her and said nothing.

"May I come in?" she demanded when Loki remained silent.

"No."

He slammed the door in her face and stalked back to bed. Prior to his second life as the Allfather, he had always been late-to-bed, late-to-rise, and on most days greeted the rosy-fingered-dawn in a snarling stupor. There was something oddly satisfying in being able to re-don this aspect about himself, even if it meant being roused by a mortal.

Drawing the covers back over himself, he closed his eyes and tried to relax, but sleep evaded him. Grumbling, he reached out a lanky arm and yanked the tablet off of the nightstand from where he had left it before falling asleep the previous evening. Pride had kept him from requesting a new iPad from Fury, and after Brynn left, Loki had mended it to peruse her dossier.

He had no sooner activated the device when it began emitting a chime and flashing the word _FaceTime_ _._  Baffled, he swiped at the surface.

Fury's face appeared before him.

"Morning, Sunshine," the Director announced, looking about as delighted to see Loki as Loki was to see him. "I understand that you just met Dr. Ives."

Loki affected a blank expression.

"My apologies," he said. "I believe this instrument is malfunctioning. I can neither see nor hear you."

"Bullshit," Fury retorted. The screen split to show an aerial diagram, side-by-side with Fury's face. "Here's a map with directions to the medical wing. Get your ass out of bed and go talk to her."

Loki scowled.

"You forget your place, Director," he warned through clenched teeth. "I take orders from no one, you least of all."

"Then consider it a request instead of an order," Fury coolly suggested. He leaned forward, his face filling the screen and said, "Trust me when I say that it will be less of a headache for everyone involved – including you – if you at least  _pretend_  to cooperate with her doctor."

"Will pressing the red circle at the bottom of the screen end this conversation?" Loki inquired.

Fury blinked. "Uh, yeah. Wait – "

Loki pressed the red circle and tossed the tablet back onto the nightstand.

* * *

For lack of anything else better to do, he eventually readied for the day, cast his invisibility spell, and sought out the location Fury had indicated on the map. He made a brief stop at the dining area along the way, absconding some fruit from the tray of an unsuspecting guard, who paled at the sight of her apple and orange rising mid-air of their own accord and then disappearing in a swirl of green light. Not the most satisfying of meals, but neither was anything else that passed for food in this miserable realm.

He had just swallowed his last bite of apple when he found his destination, clustered away on one of the upper levels of the Helicarrier. He wandered for a bit, perusing the empty waiting area and rolling his eyes at the large, captioned placards hanging on the walls.

Ridiculous. As if inspirational images and purple-prosed verbage could affect meaningful influence in the mortals' puny lives.

 _If you're not riding the wave of change…you'll find yourself beneath it,_  stated one particularly insipid poster.

Loki paused, regarded the poster thoughtfully for a moment or two, and then snapped his fingers.

 _When the winds of change blow hard enough, the most trivial of things can turn into deadly projectiles,_  now read the poster.

The sound of muffled arguing caught his attention just then, sparing the rest of the décor from falling victim to his wit. Curious, he followed the sounds to an office door just past the reception desk and paused to listen more closely.

_"As I told you before, my brother –"_

_"And as I just told you, it is impossible for you to maintain an objective opinion –"_

Thor. And Dr. Ives.

Loki promptly rearranged the molecular structure of the glass and stepped into the room, dropping the invisibility spell as he went.

"About your brother's motives…"

The words died on Dr. Ives's lips at the sight of Loki walking unannounced through the still-closed door. She folded her arms over her chest with a scowl; across from her desk stood Thor and Fury, who turned to look at him. 

Thor's face lit up.

"Loki!" he exclaimed, stepping forward and reaching out to grasp him by the shoulder. "I was just informing Director Fury and Dr. Ives that all you claimed was true. Asgard thrives!"

"Always the tone of surprise," Loki lightly replied.

"We were just discussing the mortal," Thor explained, gesturing over to Ives and Fury. "Her doctor has expressed some…er…concern regarding your abilities."

"Concern is an understatement, Mr. Odinson," declared the doctor in question. Ives was of diminutive height and drew herself up as tall as she was capable. "Brynn is an extremely delicate phase of her treatment right now. To disrupt it risks undoing a tremendous amount of time, effort, and, to be perfectly honest,  _agony_  that she has experienced over the last six months. I will not have you, or anyone else, undo the progress she has made. And with respect, Director Fury," she glanced over in his direction, "I overrule you in this matter."

"With respect, Dr. Ives, you don't," Fury replied shortly. "I appreciate your dedication, but Ms. Nolan is a key asset in one of our current projects. As I told you this morning, we have here," he gestured to Loki, "an individual who can help us determine the next step in seeing that project through to his completion. I intend to take advantage of his assistance."

Dr. Ives placed both hands on her desk and leaned forward to peer at the Director.

"All right," she said agreeably, then hardened her voice as she continued, "So help me understand how placing your 'key asset' in the hands of the being who tried to  _enslave humanity_  is supposed to be an advantage."

"She makes a fair point," Loki observed. Oh, this was fun. He had forgotten how much he enjoyed playing two sides against the other.

Fury cast an exasperated scowl in his direction.

"You're not helping."

Loki's smile did not quite reach his eyes, but he was in a magnanimous mood.

He turned to address Dr. Ives and said, "Your concerns are unfounded. However, I am willing to entertain sanctions if they will give you peace of mind. Name your terms."

Both Thor and the Director glanced over at the doctor, curious to see how she would respond to Loki's thorn-encrusted olive branch.

Dr. Ives gave him a hard look, taking her time as she considered this offer.

"We'll need to increase the frequency of her sessions," she decided. "You  _cannot_ reveal your identity, or your role in the Battle of New York. She's not ready to hear the truth, least of all to find out that we've entrusted her to a sociopath," she added, muttering now. She gave the Director a deliberate look, laying at his feet full blame for this incident of therapeutic hijacking.

"Be that as it may," Loki drawled, "Ms. Nolan's accident involved a blast from an alien ship, not an oncoming vehicle. She is not a stupid woman. She will see through such a deception once her memory is completely restored."

"She's not a stupid woman," Dr. Ives agreed, "but her brain injury has left her forgetful. She frequently doubts what she remembers on a day-to-day basis, and as a result is inclined to believe what she is told."

"So you admit you've been taking advantage of her gullibility?" Thor interjected. He looked to the Director, expecting him to answer in the negative, but Fury remained silent.

"No, Mr. Odinson." Dr. Ives sighed and took off her glasses, polishing the lenses with a tissue that she had pulled out from her pocket. "We haven't been taking advantage of her gullibility. Although I would be lying if I said I don't struggle with our decision to withhold information from her."

She paused and placed her glasses back on her face, addressing both Loki and Thor as she explained, "The therapeutic process is not linear, gentlemen. Brynn has made tremendous progress since I've started working with her, but I don't have a date on my calendar when I expect she will be emotionally prepared to learn how her family really died.

"And as her doctor," Ives continued, "my top priority has nothing to do with SHIELD, but with my patient. I am focused solely upon her well-being, and will act as her advocate when she's in need of assistance. Yes, I've advised Director Fury that she needs to be monitored, and yes, it's been on my recommendation that her excursions off the Helicarrier need to be limited.

"The fact she spent yesterday morning wandering around the city and was fine afterwards tells me I've underestimated how well she's doing. But perhaps now you understand why I have grave reservations about bringing your brother on board." Ives looked over at Loki. "I'm not concerned about whether whatever you find being of use to SHIELD," she said, addressing him directly, "I'm concerned about your methods and what will be left of her after you're done."

"And when she learns of your deception?" Loki challenged. "What then?"

Dr. Ives looked almost amused.

"Why, Mr. Laufeyson," she said mockingly. "Are you saying you actually care?"

"I merely am pointing out the fallacy in your reasoning," Loki retorted.

"The same could be said for Director Fury's decision to involve you at all," Dr. Ives shot back. "You're intended to be a shortcut. Shortcuts don't always have pleasant destinations."

Loki lifted an eyebrow. "Noted. If you are done pontificating," the psychiatrists's eyes narrowed behind her glasses, "I require access to any documents you have kept since the start of her treatment. Case notes –"

"Out of the question," Dr. Ives declared. She looked scandalized. "It's a breach of confidentiality, not to mention  _every_  ethical standard set out by –"

"Technically," Thor interrupted, "my brother is now a member of her treatment team, correct?"

Loki glanced over at him, surprised -- and marginally impressed -- at Thor's shrewd observation.

The Director immediately caught onto Thor's line of thinking, and the tide turned in Loki's favor.

"I do believe he is," Fury agreed.

Dr. Ives's jaw dropped. "I'd be risking my license!"

"No, you won't," Fury swiftly assured her. "I'll make sure of it."

Her mouth snapped shut with an audible  _click_ , followed by a bitter, defeated smile.

"Then I suppose I don't have a choice, do I?"

"I could give you the illusion of having one," Loki offered mildly.

"Let's just take it one day at a time," Fury suggested before Dr. Ives could make a retort. His voice was tight. "Doctor, please continue your treatment in whatever way you see fit. Just make sure Loki has access to whatever information he needs."

Dr. Ives muttered something intelligible in response and turned away to look at her computer.

Fury glanced over at Loki and Thor. "I think we're done here. Thank you, gentlemen."

Loki snapped the heels of his boots together in an exaggerated salute, extended a half-bow to Dr. Ives, and swept out of the room without further comment. Thor followed close behind, first at a walk, then almost at a half-run to keep up with him as Loki plowed down the hallway.

"Brother –"

"I am not your brother."

For once, Thor made no argument.

"I spoke with Heimdall," he said instead.

A stumble in Loki's stride was the only indication he had heard Thor. Scowling now, and determined to be heard, Thor reached out, grasped Loki's arm and hauled him into an empty conference room.

"I spoke with Heimdall," Thor repeated, slamming the door shut just as Loki finally managed to twist out of his grip. "He told me of your agreement with Father. _All_ of the agreement."

"What of it?" Loki snarled, livid that the gatekeeper had been so liberal in sharing information about his accord with Odin.

Thor's gaze caught and held Loki's for a long moment.

"Brother," he said heavily, "was there no other way?"

Loki glowered back at Thor and did not respond. He was not going to have this conversation. He was not going to have this conversation, _ever._

He tried to shove his way past Thor, who responded by wrestling Loki into one of the upholstered chairs that surrounded the large conference table. Loki shot right back up to his feet; a brief scuffle ensued, which ended with Thor once again shoving Loki back down into the chair.

Thor stooped down to look Loki straight in the eye, one hand still gripped on his shoulder.

"Stop this foolishness, brother!"

Loki's eyes bore into Thor's, disgusted by the genuine confusion he saw reflected back at him. Thor truly was unable to accept the reality of Odin's cruelty.

"I am a pawn," Loki finally answered as Thor took the seat beside him. "I have been a pawn since the moment I was stolen from Jotunheim. Odin didn't just see a discarded runt that day. He saw an opportunity and he seized it."

"No, Loki!" he insisted. "Father  _did_  love –"

"Odin taking me was tactics, Thor, not mercy," Loki interrupted. It was hard to remain patient over having to spell out something so obvious, but he would try, for Frigga's sake. "It provided him with the hope of someday forging a lasting peace between Asgard and Jotunheim, just as offering me a place in Valhalla gave him the hope the realm would remain intact until you permanently returned to Asgard. I am, and always was to him, a pawn."

Thor began to protest, but Loki cut him off, his voice hardening, "Do not fool yourself, Thor. My accord with the Allfather was not him bestowing favor upon me. Else he would not have tied the contingency directly to my life and my magic."

On this point Thor could not argue, and as his brother sat struggling to reconcile this ugly truth with the memories he had of Odin, Loki's mind drifted back to that agonizing moment in the throne room.

 _He had just dropped away the guise of the Einherjar when_ _Odin – whose talent for sorcery was surpassed by only a few – let the temporal displacement spell he had cast drop away. The grandeur of the throne room faded to reveal Odin's bedchambers; the Allfather was literally in two locations at once, and using Gungnir to channel the spell. Instead of standing by the throne, weary but no less regal, Odin lay upon the bed, the familiar golden light of the Odinsleep slowly creeping upon him._

_"Was it not enough to deceive your adopted offspring?" Loki mocked as he crept closer to the dais. "Now you would deceive the citizens of Asgard as well?"_

_Odin turned his head to watch Loki approach. "I deceive no one but myself," he replied. His voice was a dry rasp, his face lined and weary, more than Loki could ever remember seeing it._

_"Fine words," Loki scoffed._

_"As only you would know," the Allfather replied._

_It was then that he offered Loki a boon he could not refuse: The opportunity to see Frigga again in the afterlife. Loki knew that his soul was too blackened to ever pass through Valhalla's gates, but the Allfather had the power to make an exception._

_"Is that all?" Loki demanded when Odin finished speaking. "You wish me to repent? No public humiliation? No forced lamentations of my sins? Shall I not beat my breast and wail and gnash my teeth before all of Asgard? I'm sure another venomous snake could be procured, if you felt so inclined."_

_Odin's chuckle was a wheezing, humourless rattle. "Even I know better than to ask such a thing of you, Loki. You know the difference between penance and repentance, and which of these you are capable."_

_"You realize what you are asking of me," he hissed. "Thor will not return to Asgard for another seventy, eighty years at least. Maintaining an illusion for that length of time, day in and day out, without any respite to allow me to recuperate, will drain me of my magic. It will cost me my life!"_

_A cold blue eye met Loki's, as icy and unfeeling as Loki's own, for all they were unrelated by blood._

_"A fitting price," Odin breathed, "for the lives you slaughtered."_

_And in the end – because he loved his mother – Loki set aside his dagger, submitted to Odin's spell, and became the Allfather._


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Re-enter the scepter.

_"You fool," Thor told him, anguished. "You didn't listen."_

_This wasn't supposed to happen. Yet here he was, impaled, lying in his brother's arms, the life ebbing away from him with every ragged breath he took._

_"I know," he gasped. He was cold, so cold. "I'm a fool…I'm a fool – " His voice gurgled; it was becoming difficult to think, to speak –_

_He felt Thor's hand on his cheek. "Stay with me, okay?" he pleaded. "Stay with me."_

_"I'm sorry," he answered, babbling. His vision was starting to dim, but his eyes doggedly sought out his brother's face. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."_

 

A muffled thump came from outside Loki's quarters, pulling him out of the nightmare.

He looked around blearily. What time was it? He had said goodbye to Thor the evening before - Jane was reportedly most anxious to return to her stargazing, and Loki had been all too happy to bid them farewell – and must have fallen asleep reading.

He pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes and tried to clear the fog from his head before sitting up and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. He could still feel a lingering presence outside, but the protection wards he had invoked the day before indicated no threat. Who could be at his doorstep at such a late hour?

Wide awake now and daggers in hand, Loki rose and silently walked towards the door. 

One minute elapsed, then another. He heard nothing on the other side of the door, but the presence remained. Frowning, Loki placed his left palm flat upon the door's metal surface to act as a peephole, and shifted its properties so it became transparent – a window through which only he could see.

The hallway outside his room appeared empty. He slid his palm down the door, moving it from eye level to parallel his hips. The transparent patch followed the movement of his hand, revealing a familiar head of light-brown hair sitting hunched on the floor outside.

Brynn. 

Now very puzzled, Loki opened the door, taking a half-step backwards as it swung open and she fell over slumped at his feet. She appeared unconscious.

He gave her an experimental nudge with his foot.

Nothing.

Letting out an annoyed huff, he leaned down and gripped her by the arm, and roughly dragged her the remainder of the way across the threshold. After taking a quick glance up and down the hallway – it was empty – he closed the door behind them and sealed it before turning to deal with his late-night nuisance.

Brynn was still lying in a heap on her side but appeared to be coming around. Sitting up was beyond her capacity, however, and after watching her make a few failed attempts to right herself, he reluctantly knelt down to provide his assistance.

"Here," he grunted, sliding his arm around her shoulders and helping her sit forward.

She remained upright for a moment or two but then sagged into him. Unbidden, Loki's other arm came up to encircle her, and her head lolled against his shoulder.

"Brynn?"

She didn't answer, and it was then Loki noticed the dampness of her shirt against his hands. She was soaked in sweat. Was she ill?

"Brynn," he repeated, more loudly this time. "What is the matter?"

This time she responded, but not verbally; she twitched away from him.

Growing concerned, Loki reached out and grasped her temples between his palms, and plunged into her thoughts.

A consciousness that had been wrenched apart and left in shards greeted his psyche, bringing on waves of nausea. This felt nothing like when he'd touched her mind the afternoon before, when she replayed the scene in the coffee shop. What had changed?

Feeling more alarmed than he was willing to admit, Loki dropped his hands away and severed the link, only to reach out again when she started to topple over. He caught her by the shoulders and ducked his head down, trying to make her look at him.

"What has happened to you?" he demanded. "Who's done this?"

Half-hidden behind sweat-matted strands of hair, Brynn's eyes finally met his. What Loki saw made his blood run cold.

Her eyes were bright blue. 

_I've missed you._

He sucked his breath in with a shaky gasp, and his grip on Brynn started to tighten.

Was it the scepter's voice? Or a phantom memory?

"Leave me alone," he whispered.

_But this will be so much easier, don't you think? She has a very vulnerable mind. I don't know why I didn't think of using her to reach you earlier._

This was no phantom. The scepter's presence was tangible. It evidently had gone out of its way to seek him out.

 _You're hurting her,_ it idly observed _._

He released Brynn and scrabbled away from her on the floor. Without him to bolster her, she fell forward, but this time managed to catch herself before she hit the ground and propped herself upright on both elbows. Fingerprint-shaped bruises had started to form on her upper arms.

The scepter's presence abruptly winked out of existence. In that same instant, Brynn's eyes clamped shut, then opened again. Loki saw her coordination was returning to her, and she was able to sit up completely. He watched, dumbstruck, as she sat there beside him, blinking in confusion. Finally her gaze went to his face, and he saw her eyes change from blue back into grey.

She squinted at him.

"Sammy?"

Loki's mouth worked, but no sound came out.

"No," he managed to finally say. "I am Loki."

He could see her trying to process this information, but his words seemed to hold no meaning for her.

"Sammy?" she repeated, her voice breaking.

Her late husband, Loki remembered from Brynn's dossier.

"Not Sammy," he told her. "Loki."

He saw her expression change from confusion to recognition. Her eyes filled with tears, and Loki felt a momentary pang of shared disappointment that he was not the person she sought -- hence his shock when she lunged towards him. Her arms came around his chest and held tight, as if he were the only thing on this Earth that could keep her anchored to it. She was not attacking him, or trying to restrain him – no, she was  _clinging_  to him.

Loki was familiar with this type of desperation, having held on to Frigga and Thor and even Odin in the same manner during moments of distress as a child, but never in his life could he recall being on the receiving end of such an embrace.

He sat there, paralyzed and not knowing what to do with the mortal who had practically climbed on top of him.

This was wrong. This was disgusting. She reeked of fear and sweat and smelled so unequivocally  _human_  that he should have been repulsed, but long-forgotten instincts were beginning to make themselves known for the first time in centuries. 

Instead of shoving her away, Loki found himself readjusting her so that she curled into him instead of poking him with every available joint. He moved her so she sat cradled in his lap, and let her head come to rest against his shoulder. She had a death grip on his shirt, and he let it be for concern that forcing her to let go might damage her fingers.

"I have you," he told her quietly. "I have you."

He repeated this to her, along with other reassurances that were meant to soothe, and was surprised to find that the words he spoke were not empty platitudes. Being in the role of comforter was unfamiliar to Loki, but somewhere between Brynn aiming a shotgun at his chest and helping him slip the bonds of Odin's chains, they had become allies. And as foreign as this experience was to him, he seemed to be on the right track; he could feel the tension easing from her muscles and her breathing return to a steady rhythm.

Many minutes later, Brynn's fingers relaxed and her hand drifted away from his shirt. Loki had unconsciously been resting his cheek on her hair, and he lifted his head to see if she had fallen asleep.

Much to his surprise, her eyes were open.

"What happened?" he asked her softly.

"I don't remember." She words were somewhat distant, as if her mind had still not completely returned to the present. Then she sighed and remarked, "This happens a lot."

Loki raised an eyebrow.

"You wake up in the arms of strange men with no memory of what led you to them?"

"Sure. Fury is one hell of a snuggle bug."

Exhaustion or none, the snarled sarcasm in her voice was unmistakable and she sounded more like herself.

He felt her starting to pull away and he let her go, stalwartly ignoring the compulsion to draw her back against him. He watched as she moved to sit across from him and propped herself up against the side of the desk.

"How often does…this happen?" He made a vague gesture in her direction, trying to indicate what he meant.

"Couple of times a week." Her voice was scratchy, as if she had worn herself hoarse from screaming. "Usually after a session with Dr. Ives." She rubbed her face and gave herself a shake, still trying to clear the cobwebs. "She said it's just my mind sorting things out, which makes sense. Normally I end up in one of the lounges, though."

 _Your mind is not sorting anything out,_ Loki thought grimly. _It is being possessed._

"Do you care if I stay here tonight?" he heard her ask.

Loki stared at her, taken aback by such a forward request.

"I'll sleep on the floor," Brynn was saying. "I just don't want to be alone in case it happens again." Trying for humor, she added, "Y'know, so I don't end up in Fury's lap at four fucking thirty AM. I'm sure he'd love that."

"Your vocabulary is very crass," Loki observed, dodging the request.

Her eyes narrowed.

"Fine. If I promise to talk pretty, can I stay?"

After some deliberation, he nodded his assent and went to stand.

"You may take the bed," he told her.

"Thanks, but I'd rather sleep on the floor."

Loki clenched his teeth.

"Brynn."

She glanced up at him.

"Take the bed, or return to your chamber," he said flatly. Permitting her to do otherwise went against years' worth of training in the art of chivalry.

Scowling, Brynn stood up and stalked over to the bed, grabbing one of the pillows and chucking it at him as she walked by. 

He had just started to stretch out on the floor when he heard her ask, "What's this?"

Loki turned his head and glanced over. Brynn was holding a wrinkled sheet of paper that she had found in the bedclothes - a list he had been making the night before. _Reddit_ was written at the top, followed by _Google, Project Gutenberg, Wikipedia,_ and _Slashdot._

"Websites that I wish to remember," Loki answered. He adjusted the pillow under his head, trying to get comfortable. "Goog-lay in particular seems like an especially useful resource."

Brynn burst out laughing.

"Goog-lay?" she exclaimed. "Repeat after me: Google."

He glowered back at her, but it was hard to look menacing from his spot on the floor.

"Turn off the lights," he barked.

Brynn did as he ordered, and curled up beneath the covers as Loki closed his eyes. He could hear her still snickering, but eventually the room grew quiet.

Then, a taunting voice: "Hey, Loki - tell me how you pronounce Wikipedia."

"Go to sleep," he growled.

"'K. Night."

Loki rolled his eyes beneath his lids and tried to find a more comfortable spot. His mind was racing.

_But this will be so much easier, don't you think?_

He gave an involuntary shudder, hearing the scepter's voice echo in his ears. Were SHIELD's machinations with the scepter the reason it had taken hold of Brynn tonight? But she had told him this was not the first time she had woken up in such a state -- which meant it was possible the scepter's possession of her may have been taking place prior to his arrival.

This at least partly explained his draw to the woman, he mused. He must have unconsciously sensed the scepter's lingering presence upon her. Likewise, its connection to him explained Brynn's willingness to trust him so quickly, and why, of all places, she had turned up on  _his_  doorstep when she was still caught in the throes of its influence.

Up on the bed beside him, Brynn's breathing had become deep and even. Loki conjured a green ball of light and sat up, peering over the edge of the bed to confirm she was asleep.

Jane Foster was far more elegant in slumber than Brynn, he observed. Even with the Aether coursing through her veins, Thor's woman had swooned gracefully during their mad dash in the skiff – a hand pillowing her cheek, her form a supple curve beneath his brother's cloak.

Brynn was an undignified tangle of arms, legs, and blankets. She lay sprawled on her stomach, one arm flung out to the side and most of her face mashed into the pillow.

At least she wasn't drooling.

With a sigh, he laid back down on the floor and closed his eyes once more.

* * *

_AN: Please review if you feel so inclined. I welcome any and all feedback, even the negative kind, 'cause then I at least know people are reading._


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki pisses off Brynn. What better way to show his remorse than teaching her how to throw knives?

"You are meeting Dr. Ives in a quarter of an hour, are you not?" Loki demanded, cornering Brynn in the hallway as soon as she left her quarters the following morning.

She stumbled at the unexpected sight of him, and he automatically reached out a hand to steady her. She muttered her thanks and went to walk past him, but Loki side stepped her, blocking her way.

Brynn crossed her arms and scowled up at him. Perhaps she was not a morning person, either.

"You look awful," he remarked.

This was an understatement. She had bathed and was dressed in fresh clothing, but dark circles were under her eyes, her color was off, and her arms were huddled about herself as if she were expecting a blow to come out of nowhere.

"And you look green," she retorted, finally finding her voice. "What magic are you doing? You're glowing like a goddamn nightlight."

"It is an invisibility spell," Loki chose to ignore the profanity, "I prefer not alert others to my presence unless absolutely necessary. It would…cause some alarm."

Brynn shoved her hands into the pockets of her SHIELD-issued cargo pants and started walking.

"Great," he heard her grumble. "So now people will think that I see  _and_  hear things."

"Why do you look so tired?" Loki asked, falling into step alongside her. "You were asleep the entire time you were with me last night."

"I told you," Brynn answered wearily. She ignored the odd glances that were coming her way from passersby, who were unaware that she was in fact not holding a one-sided conversation. "I'm always a mess after a session with Dr. Ives. And now she wants me to start seeing her even more."

"Ah. I believe I have a solution to that."

The sly tone in Loki's voice caught her interest, and the prospect of a scheme seemed to perk her up a bit.

"I'm listening," she said, turning back.

The curiosity he saw in her eyes emboldened him, and he glanced up and down the hallway. It was empty save for just the two of them at the moment, and now was as good a time as any...

Loki crossed the distance between and reached out to her, his right hand coming to rest on Brynn's left shoulder. Gold and green shimmers of light started to bloom beneath his palm, and she turned her head to watch as Loki extended the invisibility spell to conceal her form along with his own. Magic traced his careful touch as he smoothed his hand down the length of her arm, his hand coming to rest clasped around hers as the spell finished settling around them both.

"Did you just do what I think you did?" Brynn asked. Her voice was about two octaves higher, and she was staring at her arm as if she did not recognize it as her own.

A rare flush of pleasure washed over Loki, and he smiled. Magic was viewed as no more than tricks and child's play on Asgard, and it was rewarding to be able to impress someone with his talents - even if it was only a mortal.

"I did indeed." With his free hand, he conjured a bracelet of braided green leather. "And this," he said, holding it up between them, "will maintain the illusion without us having to remain in physical contact with one another other."

He fastened the silver clasp around her wrist and let her hand drop.

"Skip the session with Dr. Ives," he requested. "I believe I can help you recover your memories much more efficiently than she is able."

Brynn seemed spellbound, literally. Finally she let out a helpless half-laugh and raised her head to look at him.

"Sorry," she apologized, "but you kind of just blew my mind."

"And…that's a good thing?" Loki asked uncertainly.

"Loki, you just gave me an  _invisibility bracelet,"_  Brynn exclaimed.

When he continued to watch her – still waiting for some indication she might be speaking in jest about 'blowing her mind' – her dazzled expression shifted into confusion, and Loki realized she was looking at him as though he were missing something obvious.

"So you'll skip the session?" he asked, feeling uncharacteristically thickheaded.

"Well, sure," she said, "but she's going to come looking for me when I don't show up. And this thing," she held up her left wrist, "is gonna get confiscated as soon as those dumbfucks find out what it does."

Any pleasure Loki had felt over impressing Brynn with his magic was tainted by her crude remark.

"Do all women on Midgard possess your predilection for swearing?" he demanded.

Brynn's smile vanished. Whatever warmth had been building between them, the early vestiges of friendship, or perhaps just everyday camaraderie, snuffed out like a candle.

"My promise to talk nicely expired when I left your room this morning," she warned him.

Loki's lifelong oppositional streak kicked into gear when she said this. With a twist of his fingers, the bracelet disappeared from Brynn's wrist, and the aura of green surrounding her faded away. It was petty behavior on his part, but the message was clear: Foul language, no invisibility spell.

He smugly stood back waited for her to apologize, or agree to temper her tongue, but she did neither. Instead, he found himself on the receiving end of two raised middle fingers and her retreating back.

"Where are you going?" he exclaimed as Brynn stormed away from him.

"To see Dr. Ives," she snapped without slowing her pace.

She was almost at the end of the hallway now.

"You are letting pride get in the way of your better judgment," he called after her.

Brynn whirled around to face him and threw both arms out in exasperation.

"You bet I am!" she shot back. "But if you think I'm going to let some two-bit Martian  _magician_  bribe me into talking how  _he_  likes just 'cause his virgin ears start bleeding whenever someone says the word  _FUCK,"_  she shouted this word at the top of her lungs, "then you're really an idiot!"

The half-dozen people who had been traversing the hallway during this bizarre speech were now openly staring. Brynn fixed them all with a savage glare before letting out a muffled half-scream and stomping around the corner and out of sight.

_Well, that went well._

Loki drummed his fingers against his thigh, debating his next move. He was tempted to follow her and continue the argument, but Brynn's little fit of pique had provided him with the convenient opportunity to investigate her quarters. Besides, he could always make the bracelet re-appear on her wrist in the middle of her appointment with Dr. Ives. That would certainly make for a productive therapy session.

He walked back to her quarters, let himself in, and dropped the invisibility spell.

The layout of Brynn's chambers was identical to his own, but showed signs of being occupied for a much longer period of time. A few photographs adorned the desk and nightstand. He could smell the faint scent of soap, and humidity lingered in the air from a shower. Aside from the unmade bed, the space was relatively tidy.

He wandered the small living area, studying the photos, investigating the drawers in her desk – all of them empty, with the exception of one that was filled with prescription bottles – and came to stop by a particular picture on her nightstand. It was a framed photograph of a girl and boy in their late teens – a much younger Brynn, and the boy he supposed would become her late husband.

Loki picked up the photograph, studying it.

Brynn and the boy were smiling, their arms around each other and cheeks pressed together. Sammy's hair was dark brown, his eyes dark and twinkling. The man's colouring was altogether different, but he strongly reminded Loki of Thor – merry and cheerful. Brynn appeared equally carefree, beaming out from the picture with eyes that showed no signs of hardness or grief.

He set the picture back down and opened the nightstand drawer. In it he found a Bible of Gideon, the same as in his own nightstand, and an album containing more photographs. Curious, he took the album over to the desk and sat down to peruse the pages.

All of the images within were of Sammy, or Sammy and Brynn both, and cataloged their years as a couple. They had evidently met in adolescence and remained together until Sammy's death.

Loki slowly leafed through the pages, watching Brynn and Sammy's lives together unfold, image by image, smiling face after smiling face. Celebrations. The day of their marriage. Gatherings with friends and family. Vacations. Landmark events and mundane moments all captured in time, a visual testament of a rich, happy life together.

A life that had been shattered thanks to a madman.

Him.

* * *

Loki spent the remainder of the morning trying to convince himself he was not dealing with a guilty conscience. Yet try as he might, he could not get the images of the Brynn's photographs out of his head. He had fought in countless battles over the course of his lifetime, all for the glory of Asgard, and never felt remorse for those who perished at his hands. He was a sorcerer and a warrior, and doing what was right was not always easy. Bloodshed was inevitable.

But never before had he experienced such an intimate glimpse into the lives of his victims, and what was left of them after the violence had ended.

_Damn you, Odin._

He angrily stalked back to Brynn's room to wait for her to return, but she never appeared. An hour passed, then another, after which Loki finally gave up and went to seek her out. He tried the psychology wing first (transforming a few more of the insipid inspirational posters along the way) and then searched the cafeteria, and adjacent laboratory, all without any success. After traversing what felt like most of the Helicarrier, he finally located her in an arena in one of the lower levels - throwing knives.

The room in which he found her reminded him of the indoor practice yards in Asgard, where he and Thor had cut their eyeteeth growing up, sparring together as they were trained to use swords, knives, staffs, and other weaponry. Mats lined the floor, along with weights of various sizes. The overhead lights were dimmed, but sunshine streamed in through the windows, providing the room with plenty of light. One wall was mirrored off, and brought to Loki's mind a particularly fond memory of convincing young Thor that he was doomed to a century's worth of bad luck after hurling Mjolnir at a mirror 'to see what would happen.'

"I'm still mad at you, Doublemint," Brynn called as Loki stepped into the room.

She stood several meters away from a target that had been placed on the wall, upon which was a tacked-up picture of SHIELD's logo. The black eagle was as of yet unscathed, Loki observed.

"What is this place?" he asked, lingering in the doorway.

"One of about five locations on this goddamn dirigible that they haven't locked me out of," Brynn answered grimly, keeping her eyes trained on the target.

She hurled the knife she held in her hand. Loki watched it fly, chuckling when it hit the wall five feet left of the target and rebounded onto the floor. Her technique was earnest, but clumsy.

"You are holding the blade wrong," he remarked.

Brynn turned to face him, hands on her hips and a simpering smile plastered on her face.

"Really?" she asked, voice dripping with sweetness, "Or am I just letting my pride get in the way of my good judgment again?"

Loki took a deep breath, choosing his next words with care. He had come bearing a peace offering, but he would  _not_  apologize to a mortal.

"Where I am from," he said after a time, "women are held to … a different class of etiquette, shall we say. I will try to adjust my expectations."

"Lower your standards, you mean," Brynn retorted.

He shrugged. She rolled her eyes in response, and Loki found himself having to force back a smile of amusement.

"How is it you are not permitted to have electronics, yet SHIELD allows you access to weapons?" he asked curiously, walking forward. He came to stand alongside her and watched as she went to pick up another knife from the table.

"I don't think they know this studio has more than just kettle weights and exercise balls," Brynn admitted. "I found them in the closet there one night," she indicated a door over in the corner, "when I was having one of my … episodes."

The thought of Brynn stumbling onto a horde of blades in the midst of a would-be poltergeist fit sat ill with Loki. He was not sure whether to attribute her discovery of a random assortment of knives to coincidence, or dark motives on the part of the scepter.

"This is sometimes where I end up when they happen," she was saying. "Last night was the first time I woke anybody up. Sorry about that."

Still feeling uneasy, Loki turned his full attention back on Brynn, who was preparing to throw another knife. Her stance was laughable, and he shuddered at the thought of having to watch another one of her pathetic attempts to hit the target.

"May I?" he interjected.

"Sure," she said, surprising him. She handed the knife over, and then stepped away to give him room.

Loki frowned down at the blade's shoddily-wrapped handle.

"The quality of these is appalling."

"You gonna keep kibitzing on the goods or show off your mad skills?"

He cast an elegant sneer in her direction, and then flung the dagger with a practiced hand. Swifter than lightning, the blade flew the length of the room and lodged itself, quivering, in the center of the eagle.

Brynn's jaw drop in amazement, and she sputtered for a moment or two before whirling around to face him.

"If you teach me how to do that," she said, her face lit up like she had just seen Christmas, "I'll stop swearing when you're around."

It was a tempting offer, but Loki could not help but give her an odd look. She really wanted to spend her free time with  _him,_  learning to throw knives?

"Listen," Brynn said, correctly reading his skepticism, "I can't use screens for very long because they might trigger a seizure, and they won't let me on the internet anyway. I've read every single book in what they claim passes for a library. I run, a lot, but right now my only hobby is therapy, and you're the closest thing I've had to a friend in forever. I'm desperate." She held her right hand up, crossing her first and middle fingers. "I promise to cut back on the cursing if you teach me how to throw a knife."

Earnest grey eyes met his, and in them he saw no trickery or no ulterior motives - just plain, ordinary honesty.

"Agreed," Loki replied, swallowing hard. It was not as if he had anything better to do, other than possibly go out of his way to pester Coulson and Fury, and at the moment, Brynn's unpredictable behavior made her the far more entertaining prospect.

He reached into his tunic and drew out one of his own throwing knives.

"You may have better success with this," he told her. He flipped it in the air with a practiced hand and then held it out, handle facing outward, to Brynn.

"Where did you learn to do all of this?" she asked curiously as she took the knife from him.

"This is standard training where I am from," he shrugged, watching Brynn as she tilted the knife back and forth, mesmerized by the light bouncing off of the engraved blade.

She smiled up at him. "Two parts wizard, one part warrior?"

The admiration he heard in her voice prompted an unbidden smile. "Something like that. Are you ready?"

Brynn nodded, looking determined. "Yeah," she said, "what do I do?"

Loki stepped aside to allow her to stand directly in front of the target.

"Prepare to throw," he instructed, "but do not release the blade. You have no hope of hitting the target until you improve your throwing stance."

She frowned at him in confusion.

"You mean pretend to throw it?" she asked.

"Correct."

He stepped back to watch, scrutinizing Brynn's every move as she pantomimed the motion of throwing the knife.

"I feel dumb," she complained when she was done. She turned to look at him for appraisal and asked, "How'd I do?"

The pained expression Loki wore told her everything, and her face fell.

"You are putting too much force in the initial volley," he explained, trying to be patient. "Don't focus all of your energy in throwing with your elbow. Use your wrist."

He demonstrated, and Brynn copied his motions, gamely trying to follow along.

"Try once more," he encouraged.

Her second attempt was no better than the first, and on her third attempt she ended up dropping the knife. It clattered to the floor at their feet, and she let out a frustrated huff.

"Can't you just show me?" she pleaded Loki as he bent down to pick up the blade. "Like, move my arm the way I'm supposed to? 'Cause talking me through it isn't getting us anywhere."

"But it's a very simple principle," Loki insisted, trying to hand the knife back to her.

He went to explain again, but he had hardly gotten the words out when Brynn grabbed him by the wrist and hauled him towards her.

 _"Show_  me," she repeated as he stumbled into her side, "Just move my arms around or whatever."

Loki scarcely heard her. In the last two days, this woman had taken more liberties with his personal space than any other acquaintance had dared in centuries. He should have been taking offense to her brash familiarity, but instead he was starting to  _welcome_  it. Any of the initial revulsion he had felt the night before when she threw herself at him was gone, leaving in its place the shameful realization that he was lonely and longed for companionship - so much that he was  _almost_  willing to accept it from an irascible, unstable, damaged mortal.

Ears still roaring, Loki numbly corrected Brynn's fingering on the knife's handle, and then took a critical look at the positioning of her legs and feet. He adjusted her stance, nudging her left knee forward, her right foot back, to enable more fluid movement, and then straightened back up.

"The key is to throw with your wrist, not your arm," he explained, coming around to stand behind her. "Doing so allows you to throw with greater position."

He loosely encircled her with both arms, placing his right hand over hers, his left hand resting gently on her hip.

"On the count of three," he said. "Ready?"

Brynn nodded.

Loki lowered his head down put himself at her eye level, leaving them both standing not quite cheek-to-cheek. Although this gave him an accurate sense of her sight line, her nearness also meant being fairly intoxicated by the scent of her freshly-washed hair and warm, clean skin. 

Gods, she smelled like Valhalla.

He grit his teeth, reminded himself that he was not his idiot brother who fancied anything that was female, walked upright, and had a pulse, and forced himself to focus.

"One," he gripped her hand and bent her arm towards her shoulder, "two," now he tilted her hand and wrist back, "three."

Right on cue, Brynn released the dagger; the momentum from Loki's swing transferred from his hand to hers, and the dagger went sailing -

\- and lodged into the wall two inches away from the target.

"I missed it by a mile!" she protested in outrage.

"But you were much closer than any of your other attempts," Loki said with a laugh. "A tremendous improvement, if you ask me."

Brynn made a face but ceded his point.

"Practice makes perfect, hey?"

"Having proper equipment helps," he replied, casting a scornful eye at the sub par knives on the table. He looked back at her. "Do you wish to try again?"

"God, yes," she declared, oblivious to the hesitation that had come into Loki's voice when he asked her this. She held her hand out and waggled her fingers. "Gimme another one."

Her playful enthusiasm made him grin, and he procured another knife from his tunic.

* * *

Loki called a stop to the lessons an hour later, as Brynn was growing visibly tired, and he was hungry. They had ended up in the Helicarrier's main mess hall, conversing and sharing an early evening meal. He hadn't bothered maintaining the invisibility spell, and everyone was giving their table a very wide berth.

"And you were - a curator of social work?" Loki asked. He tried to remember the terminology from skimming through Brynn's file the night before.

"Social worker," she corrected him around a mouthful of macaroni and cheese. She swallowed and continued, "Yeah, Sammy and I both were LCSWs - licensed clinical social workers," she added when she saw Loki's puzzled frown.

He took an experimental taste of a french fry - not bad - and continued his line of inquiry.

"And what led you to this trade?"

"Oh, the usual," Brynn answered, chasing a piece of pasta around her bowl with her fork. "Delusions of trying to save the world. Sammy's reasons were more legit, though. He grew up in the system, and wanted to fix it."

"What system?"

She looked at him in confusion. Fatigue had made her less fidgety, he noticed, and she was relatively still, sitting with one elbow propped up on the table, chin cupped in her hand.

"You don't have foster care where you're from?"

"You'll have to explain it to me," he shook his head. "Are you done with the macaroni?"

This particular dish was going to be one remnant of Midgard that he took back with him. Loki had initially balked at the thought of sharing food, but set aside his vegetable plate and phobias about mortal germs after Brynn goaded him into trying a bite of her macaroni and cheese.

She pushed the bowl over to him, and as Loki started in on a second helping, she sat in contemplative silence, trying to think of how to explain the concept of foster care to the demigod eating Kraft Dinner across the table.

"It's a system that has good intentions," she began. "Other families take in children whose parents can't care for them, and social services helps provide wrap-around support to the whole family. The hope is the kids go back to their parents once everything has stabilized. But..." her voice trailed off and her eyes grew hard, "it doesn't always work out that way. It didn't for Sammy."

Loki set down his fork, no longer hungry. "May I ask what happened?"

Brynn abruptly reached over for the pile of napkins sitting out on the tray.

"It's not a happy story," she replied, not meeting his gaze as she began to tear the napkins apart, "and I really don't want to talk about it."

"I realize that," Loki acknowledged, "but I would prefer to learn this information from you, rather than relying upon SHIELD's dossiers."

The table was now littered with shreds of paper napkin, and Brynn showed no signs of letting up anytime soon. Loki watched her work for a time, brooding. The heartbreak of a mortal woman had left him feeling...sympathetic. But why? And how? Compassion had long been a foreign concept to him.

The same instincts that had guided him the night before resurfaced, prompting him to reach across the table and cover both of Brynn's hands with his own. Her nervous fingers stilled, but she did not pull away. Her skin was chilly, and a goading thought entered his mind, wondering if she would be so willing to accept his touch if his hands were ridged and blue.

He ignored the temptation to lapse into self-pity and placed his attention back on Brynn.

"You must try to trust me," he reminded her quietly, "else the task SHIELD has set before us will be a waste of both our efforts." He leaned his head to the side, trying to catch her gaze, but she refused to meet his eyes. "The sooner we are able to unlock your memories, the sooner the both of us can return home."

"I don't even know where home is anymore," Brynn whispered.

Her voice was lost, and in it Loki heard echoes of his own pain. Oh, true, he had grown up in Thor's shadow and never quite fit in no matter how hard he tried, but Asgard always was  _home -_  until that fateful day when everything he knew and loved shattered to pieces, leaving him unmoored, and so bitter that he no longer quite remembered where the rage ended and he began.

Keeping one hand resting over Brynn's, Loki drew his other hand away and began to toy with the remains of the napkin. 

"I know what you mean," he quietly replied.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now we're starting to get to the good stuff....

 Loki insisted on escorting Brynn to her room after they were done eating, ignoring her protests the entire way back from the cafeteria ("Spoiler alert! I'm not a damsel in distress!").

"Do you guys not have feminism where you're from?" she was complaining as they turned the corner and approached her door.

"Certainly," Loki affirmed, the Valkyrie immediately coming to mind. "Although, I must say the etiquette I was taught is somewhat out of place here."

 _"Somewhat?"_  Brynn echoed snidely, but her smile was affectionate, and instead of taking offense Loki found himself smiling in return.

They had reached her room. He was the epitome of courtesy as he waited for Brynn to key in the code to the door, but he stealthily took note of the combination. Not that he needed it, but the information might come in handy at some point in the future.

"Oh," he remembered as she was about to step inside, "before I forget..." Loki plucked the invisibility bracelet out of the air and offered it to Brynn.

Like a magpie, she snatched it from his fingers and stuffed it into her pocket, as if she was worried he might change his mind again. "Do I get to keep it this time?"

Loki had a snarky rejoinder at the ready, but it died on his lips when he saw Brynn's hopeful expression. For the first time he noticed that her grey eyes also held flecks of green, and this observation took his thoughts to an unexpected place, in which he imagined how green those guileless eyes might look if he could ever get her out of SHIELD's customary black wardrobe.

Or just get her out of her clothes entirely.

His mouth went dry.

Aloud, he said, "Keep it as long as you like. Sleep well, Brynn Nolan."

He had every intention of making a speedy retreat, but froze when Brynn put her hand on his shoulder and tipped up onto her toes. She paused, studying his face for a few moments, and then leaned forward to press a quick kiss against his cheek. Loki automatically bent down to help span the difference in their heights, all the while savagely reminding himself that she was a mortal, and he was a god. But her close proximity had set his heart to racing and was taking with it all logic and rational thought.

"Thank you," he heard her say quietly, her words warm against his skin. Then she came back down to her feet, gave him a quick smile, and disappeared into her room. 

Loki remained standing at the door, blank-faced. Two security guards turned the corner at the far end of the hallway and began to walk in his direction. He absently recast the invisibility spell, and both men jumped in alarm as he blinked out of sight. On any other day, Loki would have headed straight for them, whispering,  _"Boo!"_  as he ghosted between them, and then cackled merrily to himself when they inevitably bolted down the corridor.

But not today.

His shoulders slumped and he let his head fall forward, forehead coming to rest against the surface of Brynn's door with a quiet thump.

This was very, very bad.

* * *

In hindsight, it was all the fault of the coffeepot.

Loki was prepared to be all business the following day. As he lay awake in his bed the night before, castigating himself for being so _soft,_ he decided to abandon any investigation of the scepter and its influence on Brynn. He no longer gave a damn about SHIELD's research, and hoped Stark and Banner and Fury and Coulson and possibly the entire human race all vanished in an enormous puff of blue smoke.

Let them hang, the lot of them. He was Loki of Asgard. He did not fraternize with  _mortals._

But he was a man of honor and would uphold his end of the bargain -- albeit as quickly as possible. It was, after all, the right thing to do. 

Brynn sought him out mid-morning, but he dodged her request for another knife lesson, and instead steered her over to an empty conference room, feeling that it was best to remain in neutral surroundings. He tried to start his line of inquiry about her history, hoping this would segue into what she remembered about the Chitauri blast, but Brynn complained that the atmosphere felt "too much like therapy," and somehow they ended up in her room anyway. Which, upon reflection, Loki decided was the better option, as the framed photographs of Brynn and Sammy would serve as an effective reminder of her mortality and status as a widowed woman.

Filled with resolve, he had seated himself at the desk and made another attempt to start, but Brynn evaded his questions and wandered restlessly about the room, picking up and playing anything that was not nailed down. And when she started dismantling the coffeepot, Loki lost all patience.

 _"Can you not be still, woman?"_  he bellowed.

Brynn dropped the carafe and rounded on him with a savage face, one that was not dissimilar to the day she went toe-to-toe with Fury.

As Loki unconsciously retreated an inch or two in his seat, Brynn stormed towards where he sat and yanked open the top drawer of the desk. For one awful moment, he thought she was going to thrust the photo album into his hands, but instead he found himself looking at an armful of orange-and-white prescription bottles, which she proceeded to slam down on the desk in front of him.

"These,"  _slam,_  "are why,"  _slam,_  "I can't  _be still."_

Her voice grew mocking as she said this last part, and she dumped the remaining prescription bottles into his lap before walking away. There were too many for him to catch, and most ended up scattered onto the floor at his feet. Loki watched, stunned, as she sank onto the bed. Her hands were shaking from the myriad of emotions coursing through her.

"If you had known me in another life," Brynn said after a time, her eyes cast down towards the floor, "you wouldn't recognize me. I was smart. I was a professional. I was incredibly good at my job, and I loved what I did. I wasn't - I wasn't  _this."_ Loathing had come into her voice, and she looked down at her palms, as if they held the source of her disgust. "Before Sammy died we were putting together an after-school program for underprivileged kids in one of the boroughs. I had multiple grants going on at the same time, and I could juggle numbers in my sleep. And now it's gone. It's all gone. My job, Sammy, our -"

The start of a sob came into her voice, and in Loki silently supplied what she could not say next:  _Our child._

He assumed the thought of this loss would start her weeping, but she maintained her composure. In that moment she looked young, terribly young, but for all her frailties, Loki recognized that woman sitting before him was made of forged steel.

"I don't know where you're from or what you're made of," Brynn continued, "but traumatic brain injuries are a big deal for humans. My memory is a mess and my verbal filter is a joke. Even if I could go back to doing my old job, I wouldn't last an hour because I would be fired for insubordination, or mixing up families, or just being stupid. And those," she motioned to the prescription bottles, "are what keep me from going over the edge completely. I might be able to come off of them eventually, but in the meantime..."

Her voice trailed off, and then she looked over to him where he sat across the room. 

"I know I'm a like a live wire," she said sadly, "and I don't need you reminding me about it. And this thing that 'SHIELD has set before us,' " again, that mocking voice, throwing his words from the evening before back into his face, "isn't going to happen if you're constantly judging me for being broken."

It was the most Loki had ever heard her speak, and in her words he could see traces of the woman she had just described -- and the shadow of what was left.

With great reluctance, he pushed back his chair and stood, slowly walking over to take a seat on the edge of the bed beside her.

"I did not know," he said, the undertones of contrition in his voice surprising even him. "My constitution is altogether different than that of humans. I can be injured, but it takes something catastrophic to render me so incapacitated that I cannot heal."

"So if you aren't human," Brynn's voice was tired, "what are you?"

"We aren't here to talk about me," Loki said automatically.

She leaned forward and buried her face in both hands, folding in on herself. Voice muffled, she said, "I'm just so sick of talking about myself."

He took a deep breath and tried to sound amiable. "All right," he said, "What else shall we talk about?"

She peeped out to look at him from between her fingers, then sat up and dropped her hands to rest on both knees.

"You," she suggested.

Loki stiffened beside her, and her curiosity shifted into a scowl.

"Look," she snapped, "I don't know a thing about you except that you're not from Earth and you're a magic-wielding fiend. I like you but I don't even  _know_  you. Letting you dig around in my mind to see the really personal stuff is a lot different than me showing you an instant replay of what happened in a coffee shop. I'm not a telepathic Jumbotron. So," Brynn reached out and gave his shoulder a nudge, "you're up, slugger."

Now it was Loki's turn to start unraveling threads on the bedclothes. He was finding it difficult to keep up with the capriciousness of her moods; the grief-stricken woman who had just lain her heart at his feet was gone, and now she was back to being sarcastic and prickly.

He angled himself to be able to face her, drawing one leg up under him on the bed, his other foot still resting on the floor.

"What do you wish to know?" he asked finally. The blanket was of cheap quality and unraveling it took little effort.

"What's the best thing that's happened to you lately?"

_You._

His thumb tore through the fabric of the blanket.

Aloud, he answered, "Being able to miss a diplomatic event." It was partially true; he had been dreading having to see the prime minister again.  _Perhaps I should set Thor to work more often..._

"Diplomatic event?" she echoed, drawing him back to into the conversation. "You mean you're a politician?"

"Not quite," he said reluctantly.

Brynn shook her head, not satisfied. "Be specific."

Loki's jaw tensed, and he began to tread with care.

"I come from a powerful family," he answered, shifting uncomfortably. He forced himself release the blanket, and Brynn promptly picked up to continue worrying the hole created by his thumb. "There is...a hierarchy. At present, I am at the top."

"So what are you, the Godfather or something?"

"No," Loki said, taking her literally. "I am the Allfather - king."

Brynn's eyebrows shot up to her hairline.

" _King?"_

"Yes."

"Like with a  _crown?"_

"Of sorts," he answered. The mere thought of the Allfather's helmet made him grimace. It was a heavy, wretched thing that left his temples aching. Maybe that explained why Odin was in a perpetual bad mood.

"Ohmygod," she was saying. The glee in her voice was palpable and she was practically bouncing with excitement. "Loki, I've gotta to see this. Show me!"

"My helm?" he exclaimed.

"No! Your king –" Brynn sputtered, hands waving around as she fumbled for words. "Your king stuff! Robe, scepter, all that! Do you have knights, like in King Arthur?"

He huffed and pressed his hands to his thighs, rising to his feet. "You're acting like a child."

"No, I'm not, your worship," she said flatly. She glared at him as he walked over to the small fridge tucked away in the corner, which he was pleasantly surprised to find was stocked with bottles of water and a beverage labeled Diet Coke.

"I'm behaving like a woman who hasn't seen anything more interesting than the inside of a Starbucks in the last six months," Brynn continued, "and is now in the company of a sorcerer. So either show me what you look like in your King Loki gear, or magic this room so I think I'm in Tahiti."

"But you see through my illusions," Loki pointed out as he twisted the cap off of the soda. He took a slug, stalling. In reality, he could have made her first request happen with ease: The Allfather's armor was not on his person, but his own armor was concealed in his inter-dimensional pocket and was always at the ready. The prospect of Brynn seeing him clad in gold and green and readied for battle, however, made him inexplicably queasy.

"Ugh, fine," she ceded his excuse with a glum face and tried a different tactic: "Okay, Alex, I'll take 'Family' for five hundred. Spill."

It took him a few seconds to parse her Midgardian slang. Once he thought he understood her question, Loki opened his mouth to answer, and then closed it.

He could lie. Say he came from Alfheim and make up a benign history, spinning a tale that was the immortal equivalent of a house and a dog and a picket fence. But for once, the Liesmith did not want to lie.

Seeing his hesitation, Brynn smiled wryly and offered him the blanket. Its corner was now in tatters.

Loki declined with a shake of his head head and returned to his spot on the bed, sitting nearer to her this time. He saw her eyeing his beverage and without thinking offered it to her to share. As she helped herself, Loki decided to tell her the truth - a version of it, anyway.

"I am from another realm," he began. "Asgard. I am the younger of two sons. The lesser son, in many respects. The Aesir favor the warrior, not the thinkers, and magic is not viewed as a weapon, but as cheating. My brother and I were...in constant competition for our father's approval growing up. Only one of us could be king. As a boy, I wanted the throne, but as I grew older..."

His voice trailed off, remembering the fear that entered his heart the moment he was handed Gungnir. He was telling the truth that day, when he battled Thor on the Rainbow Bridge: He had never wanted to be king. But when the responsibility fell at his feet -- within only hours of learning the truth of his parentage -- he had eagerly ascended the throne, and in his earnest, _pathetic_ attempt to make his father proud, had lost all sense of self. Years of feeling overlooked and discarded culminated in two simple words -  _No, Loki_  - and tipped him over the precipice and plunged him into despair.

Loki took a deep breath, released it, and continued his story. 

"I came to realize that my place was at my brother's side," he explained. "To be his conscience, to help him lead. Years later, I learned that he was not my brother at all, that I had been adopted in infancy. In me runs the blood of a race of creatures who are the sworn enemy of Asgard, a race that I was raised to fear and hate. The man I thought was my father concealed my true form with an enchantment and raised me as his own in hopes of one day using me to unite our kingdoms. But my brother's stupidity put an end to that dream of peace, leaving me no longer of any use to my family. Or to anyone."

Loki fell silent, his eyes distant and focused inward. Absently he felt Brynn's hand come around his.

"I'm so sorry." The sincerity he heard in her voice confused him. None of this was her burden to bear. "That's..." She paused, at a loss as to what to say. Loki sensed that for once she was not struggling with word retrieval, but rather there were simply no words adequate to the task. "That's sick," she finally said, "absolutely _sick_ that they kept that from you. How old were you when you found out the truth?"

"It was only a few years ago." Wanting a distraction, Loki looked down and began to study her hand. She still wore her wedding band, and he idly traced the smooth surface of the ring with his thumb as he recalled that horrific day in Odin's vault. "The conversation took place under...unusual circumstances," he said finally, still toying with her ring. "I learned the truth, and my father fell into the Odinsleep immediately after."

"Wait a minute," Brynn said harshly, drawing her hand away. Something inside of him twinged; the compassion in her eyes was gone, but then he realized her anger was not directed towards him.

"You're telling me," she exclaimed, "that your father waited until you were an _adult_ to drop the bomb on you that you were adopted, and then he took a _nap?"_

"There were no bombs," he shrugged, "but neither was there truly an opportunity to question him further."

"Bullshit!" Brynn snapped. She was livid. _"No_ parent gets the right to tell their kid something _that_  big and then check the fuck out of the rest of the conversation. What a -- "

She stopped short. When the tirade did not continue, Loki lifted his eyes to look at her. 

Brynn appeared to be trying to employ the verbal filter she had mentioned earlier, and had even gone so far as to bite her lower lip to try and keep her thoughts to herself, but then either lost the battle or simply gave up her efforts:

"What a douche canoe!" she blurted out.

The words hung there in awkward silence as Loki's mind processed this bizarre turn of phrase. A snicker escaped him when the comment finally clicked, followed by chuckles, which escalated into full-on guffaws, until he was positively howling with laughter, doubled over on the edge of the bed and not caring at all about making a spectacle of himself, because damn it all,  _this was funny._

Odin, son of Bor, Allfather, ruler of the Nine Realms ... douche canoe. Old one-eye would have swallowed Gungnir whole, had he borne witness to such impudence, let alone from a mortal.

This mental image spurred on even more peals of laughter, which escalated further when Brynn realized he was not offended and began laughing, too. 

"Sorry," she apologized when they both finally managed to recompose themselves. 

Grinning, Loki gazed in wonderment at the mortal woman sitting beside him. She had no grasp of the gift she had just given him, but her words, crude as they were, were a balm to the sorrow he had carried for so long in his soul.

It would have been easy for Brynn to narrow in on the fantastical aspects of his story - his being of royalty, his magic, of coming from another realm. But her former line of work meant her focus was only parts that had ever truly mattered to Loki - his family's betrayal. She had not sought the silver lining or attempted to assuage his pain with bright reminders about his parents' good intentions.  _He kept the truth from you because he never wanted you to feel different,_ Frigga had insisted. 

Instead, Brynn had punched straight through such sentiment and yanked the curtain back on the crux of the matter: Odin had lied, and done so with intent.

A lightness Loki had not felt in years started to blossom in his chest.

"Brynn Nolan," he was still slightly out of breath from laughing, and he reached out a hand to touch her face, "You are possibly the most insane individual I have ever had the pleasure to meet."

He could tell she was not sure whether to take this as an insult or a compliment, but she smiled anyway, and a wild thought came into his mind as he drank in the sight of her:

The throne room of Asgard, Odin standing upon the dais, arrogant and imposing as always. And there, at the base of the golden stairs, stood Brynn, telling the Allfather what she really thought of him and his methods of parenting - likely concluding her rant by flipping him off - with Loki at her side and giving her a one-man standing ovation.

"Are you okay?"

Loki's eyes came back into focus at the sound of Brynn's voice. He took his time answering, and his hand curved to slowly trace the backs of his fingers down her cheek. Brynn's skin went pink and her breath caught, and Loki felt a swirl of heat in his stomach as he saw the effects of his touch. On impulse, he leaned forward, cupped the back of her head with his hand, and kissed her forehead.

"Yes," he murmured into the warmth of her skin. He drew back and smiled down at her, the first genuine smile that had touched his lips in a very long time. "I'm okay. More than you know."

Brynn seemed trapped by his gaze, and Loki felt himself falling into her eyes. It suddenly occurred to him that this woman represented new possibilities. She was mortal, but assuming he did not give up on Valhalla or found a way to escape Odin's enchantment, his lifespan was not far off from hers. 

The sweetness of the moment was abruptly spoiled by a gut-wrenching fear:

Was this all the work of the scepter, working through Brynn to lure him into complacency, and yet again leaving him vulnerable to the whims of Thanos? Or were the sons of Frigga merely cursed, both doomed to lose their hearts to mortal women?

Loki was not sure which possibility was worse. But neither was he sure if he cared. He could hardly think, save for one thought:

He could never, ever let her know what had happened in New York.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A FaceTime session between Loki and Thor over a box of Pop Tarts.

_LOKI LAUFEYSON would like to FaceTime…_

Thor was eating breakfast at the kitchen table when he heard the chime of Jane's iPad from where it sat on the counter. He glanced up from his magazine, saw the incoming alert on the screen, and nearly choked on his Pop Tart.

He lunged for the device to accept the call, but in his haste knocked over his coffee mug with his elbow, spilling the contents all over the table.  

There was the trademark  _hum_ as the connection established _,_  followed by Loki's face appearing on the screen. He looked fatigued, but there was a brightness in his eyes that Thor had not seen in a good long time.

"Brother!" he said joyfully while trying to surreptitiously mop up some of the coffee with his sleeve. "Director Fury told me you were becoming acquainted with the technologies of Midgard. I myself prefer Apple over Android…"

Loki was giving him  _that_  look, the one he always wore when he was waiting for him to shut up. Thor stopped talking and ate another bite of his breakfast.

An expression of distaste crossed Loki's brow.

"What is that...thing?" he asked. "It looks disgusting."

"A Pop Tart!" Thor held it up so it came into view of the camera. The morning's flavor was Frosted Cherry, dotted with pink sparkles of sugar. (Thor's favorite was the S'Mores variety, but sadly the local grocer maintained a very limited selection.) "It is a breakfast pastry. It is delicious, I assure you."

"Hmm." Loki seemed skeptical, but he had always been the fussier eater of the two.

"How are you, brother?" Thor asked, shifting the topic away from breakfast. "You look tired."

"I  _am_  tired," Loki reluctantly admitted. "I require a favor. My task with SHIELD is taking longer than I anticipated. I have never maintained the simulacrum of the Allfather for this long, and…" He grimaced, and appeared to be forcing himself to get the words out as he finished, "it is draining, particularly from such a great distance."

"Anything, Loki," Thor said immediately. "How can I help?"

"I need you to return to Asgard for a few weeks," Loki explained. "Heimdall is spreading the word that the Odinsleep approaches the Allfather, but someone must be at the ready during my absence."

"Of course," Thor agreed. Loki's newfound faith in him was heartwarming, and in truth, he would have dragged Jane to Asgard for months if that was what his brother required of him. "Let me speak with Jane. She is headed to a conference San Antonio in a few days anyway."

Loki inclined his head in gratitude, but his expression remained so disdainful at having to request Thor's help at all that his older brother could not resist the temptation to poke fun.

"How goes it with the mortal?" Thor asked innocently. He took another huge bite of the Pop Tart. "Fury tells me you are spending quite a bit of time together."

Loki's eyes narrowed to slits.

"And what else has Fury told you?"

A smile began playing about Thor's mouth. "That you seem…fond of her."

"Fury needs his sanity checked."

"Hm, perhaps." Thor's eyes started to twinkle, and correctly guessed that on the other end of the call, his brother's grip on his iPad was growing white-knuckled. "Your mortal - was she the pretty little thing Maria Hill had been yelling at the day I came to see you? Long hair, swears like an Einherjar?"

Loki's face became a bit  _too_  inscrutable.

"Interesting, too," Thor continued, really poking the bear now (and enjoying every second of it), "that your mission with SHIELD is taking such time. I would think the mind of a mortal would be rather easy to read."

"She is a very complicated woman," Loki shrugged, affecting an expression of complete indifference.  

"Well, you are a very complicated man," Thor cheerily replied. "Perhaps you have finally met your match."

"Goodbye, fool."

Loki ended the call without waiting for Thor to return his farewell. Thor grinned and tore open another box of Pop Tarts.

* * *

Loki as of late had started to regard his life as a series of boxes.

There was the "Before" box. The the identity he had known and the life he had lived before he learned of his true parentage. He had been Loki, the younger Prince of Asgard. The Liesmith, the Trickster, who beneath the games and mischief was also a gifted sorcerer. The steady, shrewd, and patient son, who preferred discourse and persuasion over war.

There was the "After" box. His exile. His spectacular failure on Earth and loss to the Avengers. The death of his mother, and helping Thor defeat Malekith. Faking his own death, and subsequent subterfuge with Odin.

Then there was the "Now" box. It was of considerably smaller size and scope, and would always be as such. Even with Thor providing him the occasional respite, the days ahead were marked and time was no longer a luxury.

At present, Brynn was the brightest light on his horizon. Where vulnerability once repulsed Loki, her fragility brought out protective instincts in him that he never knew he possessed. Gods help them both if he ever caught her with hydrochloric acid again. 

He had known her but days, but even in that brief span of time, being with her made him realize how suffocating his solitude had become. Once resigned to a lifetime spent alone, he now longed for more, and in his heart of hearts, he was starting to wonder if every misstep and slight and heartache had been leading him to her all along.

 _I like you, but I don't even know you,_  she had said.

He  _wanted_  her to know him - the good parts, of course. He was committed to setting aside his old ways, now. They no longer applied and therefore need not be mentioned. True, his scheming all depended on whether his interest was mutual, but after devoting an entire day to studying her reactions whenever he drew near, it was obvious the attraction was not one-sided. She had an extraordinary ability to conceal her emotions when she chose to do so, but this gift did not extend to controlling her pulse rate. 

The question was whether she was far removed enough from her grief to consider a new relationship.

Loki's face darkened into a scowl as he thought of Brynn's late husband. Sammy. The ghost with whom he would always be in competition. He had no justifiable reason to loathe the man, but Brynn's memories of him put him in Loki's way. Which simply meant that he would have to provide her with the prospect a life so rich that Sammy faded to insignificance.

He allowed his mind to drift, braiding together fantasies of what that life might look like.

He dreamed of convincing Brynn to abandon Midgard and start anew, with him. She had called herself stupid, but beneath her impulsivity and moodiness was a mind that was still sharp and inquisitive. Her memory was poor, her judgment laughable, but her intellect remained. She had spoken of reading all the books in the Helicarrier's library; if they had nothing else in common, then they at least could talk about books. He could show her the workings of the Bifrost and take her to see other realms, and guide her through the secret pathways of Yggdrasil that he had discovered over the centuries. He could never give her children, but he offered so much more.

Loki took his imaginings even further.

He envisioned bringing Brynn to the practice yards in Asgard and working with her for weeks until she successfully threw a knife, then kissing her soundly when the blade finally hit the target. He dreamed of taking her to his bed and making her his, bringing her to levels of ecstasy than she had never experienced with any other male she had lain with previously, and leaving her so exhausted from pleasure that all she could do was drift off to sleep in his arms...until he woke her up to see if she would have him again once more.

Lust began to unfurl inside him, deep in his groin, at this last thought.

He had never been one to go very long without sex, but there had been no one since his fall from the Bifrost. A number of females who were willing to be bedded by the aged "Odin," of course, but Loki wanted nothing to do with them by virtue of the fact they found the Allfather appealing.

Yes. Far, far too long without sex.

But perhaps Brynn could change that, too...along with everything else.

* * *

"What say you," Loki lazily inquired, "to us taking a day off?"

He and Brynn had been holed up in the Helicarrier's library all morning, reading and avoiding Dr. Ives. She had come knocking on Loki's door bright and early in order to hand off her latest set of case notes - Loki had yet to read a single page - bitterly complaining all the while. Loki laughed in the psychiatrist's face, not the least bit sympathetic that Brynn was skipping another therapy session, but he was also curious as to her whereabouts. It did not take him long to hunt her down; he had integrated a tracking spell in her bracelet, providing him with quick knowledge of her location anytime she was using it.

Brynn was engrossed in _Anna Karenina_ and did not immediately answer his question. She had a love for Tolstoy, but her poor memory made for slow progress, as she frequently had to stop and re-read. 

"Take a day off from what?" she asked absently. She was backtracking through the pages again, doggedly trying to remember various plot lines. "It's not like we've really made any progress with this stupid memory thing."

"All the more reason to procrastinate," Loki said with a smile.

This was all part of his plan, and so far it was working splendidly. Brynn had shown little interest in recovering her memories, and he had been all too happy to encourage her lack of initiative. Fury had contacted him the day before, wanting a status update regarding their progress; Loki held him off with excuses about needing more time, and intended to continue stalling for as long as possible. 

Bored, he walked over to where Brynn sat reading in the windowsill across the room. It was just long enough to allow her to sit sideways with her legs stretched out, but left no room for anyone else to sit.

Loki leaned against the wall beside her instead and said, "Well, my dear? What shall we do?"

When she continued to ignore him, he playfully reached down and plucked the book out of her hands. Brynn threw him a grouchy look and snatched it back.

"You're the magician, Gandalf," she grumbled, opening the paperback again to find where she had left off. "Make up your own fun."

Loki snapped his fingers; the book disappeared out of her hands, and she looked up at him in irritation.

"Ten more minutes," he told her, grinning, "and then...fun. Yes?"

"Fine," she agreed. She still sounded cranky, but then admitted, "My eyes are starting to hurt anyway."

Loki made the book reappear and returned it to her, chuckling when she stuck out her tongue at him.

She looked quite lovely, sitting there. Her hair was tied back in a messy bun, a few stray tendrils curling loosely around her face. He had magicked some color into her wardrobe as a prank a few days earlier, and the long-sleeved top she wore today was a deep emerald. The color became her, and brought out the tiny flecks of green in her storm cloud eyes.

He walked away and began perusing the bookshelves again. The selection could was paltry at best. There were a number of classics, but Loki did not share Brynn's obsession with Russian literature, and having already torn through the collected works of Ayn Rand, few of the other titles appealed to him.

After some debate, he finally settled on an anthology of poetry by John Milton and went back to join Brynn. He waited for her to make room for him, but she smiled up at him sweetly and returned to her book. Delighted by her impudence, Loki reached down, slid an arm under her knees, raised her legs up high enough for him to take a seat, and then draped them across his lap. She pulled a face at him, he winked back, and they settled into companionable silence with their books.

"Brynn," Loki said after a time.

"Hm?"

"Put down the book," He was looking at her anxiously, "Your eyes are starting to cross." He did not speak in jest; Brynn's left eye was pulling inward, a surefire sign of fatigue.

She immediately closed the book.

"I used to be able to read for hours," she muttered, pressing her palms to her eyes.

"You  _have_  been reading for hours," Loki pointed out. "There is no sense in testing your limits."

"Mmph," was her only reply. She dropped her hands from her face and glanced over to see what he was reading, smiling faintly when she saw the title on the spine.

"Good choice," she remarked. "My dad named me after one of his poems."

"Did he?" This surprised him. Brynn rarely spoke of her father, and what little Loki knew of him had led him to believe the man was not particularly learned.

"Yeah." She draped one arm over her eyes to try and block out some of the light. "Dad was a LittD - doctor of literature. He did his dissertation on Milton."

Loki had enough familiarity with Midgard's system of higher education that he could appreciate such an achievement. "And yet he worked in a gambling establishment?"

"He did," Brynn smiled again at his formal wording. "There wasn't a lot of work for him when we moved out to Vegas, and we needed money, so that's how he ended up working in the casinos. It paid better than adjuncting, so he stuck with it."

"What is the title of the poem?" Loki asked curiously.

"Sabrina Fair."

He flipped to the book's table of contents and quickly located the page.

 _"Sabrina fair, listen where thou art sitting under the glassy, cool, translucent wave, in twisted braids of lilies knitting the loose train of thy amber-dropping hair,"_  he read aloud.

Loki finished the rest of the poem in silence and then glanced up at Brynn. 

"What does it mean?" he asked.

"It's the story of a water sprite who saved a virgin from a fate worse than death," she answered, her arm still covering her eyes.

Loki smirked. "And Sabrina is the virgin?"

"Sabrina's the savior."

This explanation hit a little too close to home, and Loki looked blankly back down at the book.

Brynn's watch beeped just then, sparing him from having to come up with an intelligent response.

She palmed her watch off and swung her legs down from Loki's lap. She was bleary-eyed, and he wondered if he could persuade her to get some extra sleep.

"I need to go take my Carbatrol. Does that count as fun?"

He thought for a moment. "Anti-seizure, correct? And, no."

Brynn gave him an odd look. "You trying to moonlight as a neurologist?"

"Yes," Loki said grandly, executing a slight bow as he rose up from the seat. He held out a hand to help her up. "From now you may call me  _Doctor_  Loki of Asgard."

This drew a laugh from her, and she took his offered hand, letting him pull her back to her feet. Loki returned the books back to their respective shelves, and together they left the library and began making her way back to her quarters.

"So, what does constitute for fun on Asgard?" Brynn asked as they walked.

"At present, not much very much, at least not for me," he admitted. "I spend the majority of my day in council meetings. Running a kingdom, as they say, is a full-time job."

"I'd believe it," she said dryly, "you being a king  _and_  a neurologist and all. But seriously, that sounds abysmal."

Brynn's lack of awe over his status as royalty was both strange and refreshing, and Loki was still growing accustomed to being treated with such a lack of deference. 

"I do enjoy horseback riding," he remarked. "Have you ever been?"

"Riding?" she repeated.

The sudden excitement in her voice caught his attention; he glanced at her and was startled by the confidence that had come over her. Her posture straightened, and there was a look of self-possession in her face that gave him a glimpse of her former self.

"I started riding lessons when I was eight," she informed him. "Kept it up all through high school, and I was on the equestrian team in college. I can beat your ass six ways to Sunday in a race."

Loki smiled. "Is that a challenge I hear?"

"No," Brynn's expression grew downright cocky, "because I'll win."

"Hm," he mused, feigning disbelief, "And if I am the victor, what is my prize?" He was already envisioning them racing down the Bifrost, and not caring one whit who prevailed.

"Nothing," she said smugly " 'cause I'll win."

Mockery aside, it thrilled Loki to have found something in common, and he listened with interest as Brynn began describing the various competitions in which she had participated growing up. He was animatedly telling her about Slepnir as they approached her quarters when Brynn came to an abrupt halt.

 _"Shit,"_ he heard her mutter.

Loki immediately saw the source of her ire: Dr. Ives was waiting outside of her door.

The blasted woman was nothing if not persistent.

Putting his hand to the small of her back, Loki drew Brynn aside, deliberately placing himself between her and the psychiatrist.

"She cannot see us," he reminded her. He caught her wrist and gave the bracelet she wore a quick squeeze for emphasis. "Go to my chambers. I'll fetch your medication, and then we can go for a walk. We both could do with some air."

Brynn shook her head. Her brief surge of confidence had faded away and her shoulders slumped.

"I've missed my last four sessions," she explained. She looked down at her shoes, scuffing a foot. "She'll kill me if I miss another one."

Hearing this, Loki lifted his hand and tipped her chin up with the curve of his index finger.

"Don't be a fool," he chided, looking her straight in the eyes. "You are a grown woman. You answer to no one, least of all her."

"I'm not being a fool," Brynn snapped, pulling away. "Why are you so anti-Dr. Ives anyway? She's trying to help me."

His face darkened. "I do not trust her," he answered grimly.

"Paranoid much?" Brynn rolled her eyes and huffed, "It's fine. Checking in with her will get her off my back, and to be honest, I'm kind of ready to just get the hard part over with."

An uneasy sensation began to take root in Loki's chest. "What do you mean?" he asked, frowning.

"You, me, and telepathy, remember?" Brynn let out a long sigh. "Loki, SHIELD's going to find every reason to keep me here until they get out whatever's stuck in my head. You're my best chance at being able to go back to having a life."

He realized that continuing the argument was futile and stepped back with a curt nod.

"Come to my room once you're done," he requested, before adding a quiet, "Please."

She managed a quick half-smile in reply, and focused her attention on the doctor.

The hallway was empty, and as soon as Dr. Ives was looking in the other direction, Brynn removed the bracelet. Tucking it into her pocket, she left Loki's side and went to greet her psychiatrist, whose eyes widened in shock at the unexpected sight of her patient appearing seemingly out of nowhere. Loki expected the woman to start scolding her in earnest, but Ives's expression remained nonjudgmental.

"Ready?" was all she asked.

"Yeah," Brynn answered, "Sorry I'm late. I just need to go get my medication."

Dr. Ives waited patiently as Brynn entered her quarters and re-emerged a moment later.

"How have you been feeling?" Loki heard her ask Brynn as they fell into step alongside one another and began walking away.  

The women had just rounded the corner when a man hurrying by in the opposite direction caught his notice. He had salt-and-pepper hair, and a slightly disheveled, anxious mien about him.

Loki studied him more closely, his jaw tightening when he put a name to the face.

Banner.

What was he doing here, back in civilization?

The uneasy sensation in Loki's chest deepened, twisting his stomach into a knot. Ignoring it, he turned on his heel and walked back to his quarters to wait for Brynn.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scepter's back. Shit goes down.

Brynn did not return after her therapy session, which came as little surprise to Loki. He knew something was amiss, and as afternoon turned into evening and the hour grew late, he began to gird himself for the worst.

Sure enough, at one in the morning, there came a tell-tale thump at his door. He went to open it, heart wrenching when he saw Brynn hunched up on the floor.

This time there was no hesitation as he swept her inside and onto his lap, drawing her close as the door shut behind them. A quick glance at her eyes told him everything; they were blue, wide-open and staring, and she showed no signs of being able to see him.

"Brynn," he called to her, trying to pull her mind back to reality. "It's Loki. I'm here --"

 _As am I,_  came that voice, that damnable voice.

The familiar blue haze immediately began to drop across his vision. Every muscle in his body went rigid, but this time he was prepared for it.

"Be gone," he hissed. His hold on Brynn tightened, his arms curling her into his chest as if to shield her. The scepter's lure in his mind remained tangible, but this time,  _this_  time he had something to fight for. He could resist.

No. He  _would_  resist.

_You shall not be rid of me so easily, my king._

"I am not your king," Loki spat. "Now let the mortal be."

_And lose my advantage? Never. She is mine. As are you._

At this, the blue curtain threatening to fall before Loki's eyes faded just a bit, and a knife-like smile came across his face. He had always had a possessive streak, and this was one instance in which avarice played to his advantage.

"No, no," he replied almost teasingly, blood thrilling to the challenge. "She is mine."

_A human? She is baggage. She will be of no use after your triumph._

"Cease these games," he replied, snarling now. "You are but words, and you shall not win."

Brynn's back violently arched before the scepter could respond; its influence had become too much for her brain and was triggering a seizure.

As Loki placed her back down on the floor, the scepter fled, unable to remain in the presence of such an overload of electrical activity in the mind of its host.

The convulsions started next, and Loki watched helplessly as Brynn writhed before him, every muscle in her body contorting and contracting in rapid, jerky movements.

How could this be happening? Was this not something her medications were supposed to prevent?

Thankfully the seizure was over almost as soon as it had started. Her body contorted a final time and then she went still, lying twisted on the floor, flat on her back and limp as a rag doll.

Once he was certain the spasms had stopped, Loki crouched down on one knee beside her and reached a trembling hand out to touch her shoulder.

"Brynn?" he whispered.

Nothing. Her chest rose and fell in a gentle rhythm, and aside from the awkward angle of her body, he would have otherwise thought her deeply asleep.

Loki sat back on his heels in agony and buried his face in his hands. He suddenly wanted Thor. His brother was an oaf, but he was an earnest oaf, and at that moment Loki desperately needed to lean on someone else's inflated sense of optimism. 

 _She breathes, brother!_  Thor would insist, followed by the token reassurance of,  _Do not despair. She breathes! That means she must be fine._

Long minutes passed before Brynn moved again. Loki heard her stir and glanced up; her head lolled from one side to the other, and then her eyes fluttered open, their irises grey once more. She shifted, searching for him.

"What happened?" she whispered to Loki as he knelt back down at her side. Her eyes were fixed on his, as if he were her only remaining anchor to reality.

"You..." He knew she was not in any state at that moment to understand the truth, and so went with an explanation that he thought she would be able comprehend. "You had a seizure."

The dazed expression she wore was suddenly replaced by panic. "Did I throw up?"

Her voice was still no more than a whisper, but she sounded absolutely horror-struck. Loki almost wanted to laugh. Of all things, this was what she was most worried about?

"No," he assured her, smoothing the hair back from her forehead. "Can you stand?"

Brynn shook her head, eyes still locked on his.

"Up you get," he grunted, gathering her up.

Loki carried her the short distance to the bed, and carefully laid her down before climbing in alongside her as if he had been doing so for years. Brynn had just enough energy to tuck herself against him and pillow her head on his shoulder, and he brought his arm up around her, the palm of his hand coming to rest against her hair.

He knew she needed to sleep, but he had no hope of solving whatever game was afoot without more information.

"Do you remember what happened?" he asked her quietly.

"Dream," he heard her mumble. "Bad dream."

"Tell me." His voice was gentle, but this was not a request.

A pause, then:

"Hospital. Waking up. Sammy's gone. Baby's…"

She couldn't say it. Loki's vision blurred and his eyes squeezed shut. Of all the losses Brynn had suffered at his hands, this was the one that cut the deepest.

"Can't walk," she was rambling. "Auras everywhere. Everyone's a color…"

He could tell she was beginning to drift off, but he turned onto his side to face her, propping himself up on his elbow and catching her chin in the thumb and forefinger of his opposite hand.

"Stay with me, Brynn," he urged, jostling her slightly. "Just a bit longer."

Her eyes wearily opened back up.

"Good girl," he encouraged. He looked at her intently and asked, "What happens next in the dream?"

She stared up at him for a moment as she tried to find the word. "Helicarrier."

Loki began to rub his hand up and down her arm, trying to keep her awake. "Where on the Helicarrier?"

She slowly blinked a few times. "Lab."

This was new.

"Is anyone with you?"

"Dr. Ives."

Loki's hand on her arm slowed to a stop. "And what is she doing?"

"Wires," Brynn answered nonsensically, her eyes drifting shut again. "Then everything's blue…it's so blue…" Her voice trailed off and she lapsed back into unconsciousness.

Frustrated, Loki laid down and drew her towards him so she once again lay with her head on his shoulder. He brought his arm back up around her, and his fingers began to idly play in her hair. He remained that way for a time, staring up at the ceiling, mind racing at breakneck speed.

Something disturbing was at work here, with Brynn ensnared in the middle. If his suspicions were correct, Dr. Ives was not as altruistic as she had led Brynn to believe, and instead was using her skills to manipulate Brynn into earning her trust, in turn unlocking her memory of the accident, and enabling SHIELD to exploit her however they saw fit. 

Fury had mentioned Stark and Banner being involved in the project, Loki recalled. He held little regard for both men, but neither struck him as being capable of truly malicious intent. And although Stark had a well-earned reputation for digging his nose into whatever he saw fit, the man was hardly omniscient; some information was bound to slip under his radar, and it was possible he could be unaware of SHIELD's true mission.

The remaining question was the role of the scepter. Loki still was uncertain if its attempts to go after Brynn were related to SHIELD's mission, or if the scepter had simply seen her a means of getting to him. Both scenarios seemed equally plausible. The Other's warning to him had been clear, and Loki knew he was living as a marked man. But so long as he resisted the scepter's offers of power, and the Tesseract remained concealed in Asgard's vault, the Mad Titan posed little threat.

What to do? Intervening now risked tipping his hand to SHIELD, which meant the only way of learning the truth was to allow the scenario to play itself out once more. Oh, true, he could steal Brynn away right that second, take her back to Asgard, even, but to what end? And how could he even begin to explain?

_Brynn, my love, you are being possessed by a scepter from an alien world, and oh, by the way, I myself might have been under its influence a few years back, and that is why I destroyed Manhattan; shall we go see the Bifrost?_

No. She would insist he bring her back to Midgard, which would put her in SHIELD's purview all over again, and he would be right back where he started.

Loki turned his gaze to Brynn, watching her sleep, and left with a new appreciation for the term "mortally exhausted." He had never seen her look so tired, but he needed answers, now. Wondering if her subconscious might reveal more, he eased away from her to hitch back onto his elbow and brought his free hand up to rest his palm against the side of her face. Closing his eyes, he silently cast the spell and allowed his mind to slip into hers.

She was dreaming, and he could see her mind's eye clear as day: Sammy, sturdy and handsome, laughter alight in his eyes – and their child, toddler-aged, running around an apartment and giggling wildly as Brynn chased after him.

Loki's eyes flew back open. He flung himself away from her, bile in his mouth and breathing hard.

He did not want to see this.

He did not want to see  _any_  of it.

He wanted only to look towards the future and forget his past, and hers. In a moment of blind desperation he considered trying to erase the memories of Brynn's previous life – wiping the proverbial slate clean and creating a path forward for them both that was truly a fresh start.

But he knew, deep in his heart, that removing her grief would be an empty act of mercy, one born of selfishness, not compassion.

Shuddering, Loki forced himself to reach forward and placed his hand on Brynn's cheek once more. Invoking an enchantment that would keep her in happy fantasies for the rest of the night was easily accomplished, and once he was satisfied she would remain asleep, he rose from the bed and looked down at her a final time.

"I swear to you, Brynn Nolan," he quietly told her sleeping form,  _"I will fix this."_

He bent down, pressed a soft kiss to her temple, and then went in search of the one man who might know some of the answers he sought: Banner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made up the part of Thanos not posing any threat to Loki as long as he can't get to the Tesseract. Obviously that is not an accurate assumption based on the events of Infinity War. Also, the Russo brothers can go fuck themselves. 
> 
> I'm aware that right now there is a bit of a damsel in distress theme going on, and Loki appears to be the one doing all the rescuing. Without revealing too much, this pattern will change.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What better time to interrogate Bruce than zero-dark thirty?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This chapter is all Bruce and Loki, and a lot of plot setting. So if you're just along for the good-parts version, it may not be too interesting, but again...plot. I think the dialogue is kind of fun though. Hope you like it!

Banner's room was blanketed in darkness when Loki arrived, but the glow shining from the two computer monitors on the desk meant he could see well enough. Keeping his footsteps silent, he walked towards the desk and took a seat, giving the screens a quick glance as he sat down. One displayed a detailed schematic of the scepter, the other contained line after line of text, and various mathematical equations.

He turned to look over where Banner lay in his bed, asleep and lightly snoring. Loki loudly snapped his fingers twice.

The sound broke through the quiet and successfully roused Banner out of his doze. His eyes half-opened opened and he rolled over, rubbing his face as he peered into the darkness to try and locate the source of the noise.

"Hello, Dr. Banner," Loki said quietly when Banner's gaze landed on his face.

 _"Ohmygod,"_  he gasped, scrambling up and out of his bed so quickly that he entangled himself in the bedclothes. He stared in stunned silence at Loki for a moment or two, sheets still clutched in his hands, and then finally found his voice. "They – they told me you were here, but I didn't want to believe it."

He started edging away, trying to put some distance between himself and Loki, and then reached out to bat at the light switch on the wall. The overhead light switched on, and he squinted from the sudden glare.

"It's," Banner glanced down at his wristwatch and then back up to Loki, "2 AM. Couldn't you wait until after breakfast to come and taunt me, or try to provoke me, or whatever else it is you're planning on doing?"

"I find that time is a rather precious commodity for me these days," Loki replied. "I prefer not to waste it on arbitrary conventions such as schedules. And my concerns are somewhat urgent."

Banner looked at him expectantly, waiting for Loki to say more, and let out a resigned sigh when he remained silent.

"OK," he said, "then let's just get it over with." He tossed the blankets back onto the bed and then turned back to Loki, hands stuffed in his pajama pockets. "Why are you here, Loki?"

"I need to know SHIELD's intentions with the Chitauri scepter as they relate to Sabrina Nolan."

Banner's jaw opened and shut a few times.

"You need…" His voice trailed off, then: "You really think I'm going to tell you  _anything_?" he exclaimed, incredulous at the gall of such a request. "I wouldn't tell you my pants size, let alone what SHIELD is doing."

"Thor trusts me," Loki pointed out. "That seemed adequate for Director Fury and Agent Coulson."

"Yeah, well, no offense to your brother," Banner scoffed, "but I think he must have gotten hit in the head really hard with his hammer that he actually bought whatever it is you're trying to sell. And I told everyone that when they said they were signing you on."

"Ordinarily I would be in complete agreement with you," Loki said dryly, "but Thor knows my cooperation with SHIELD is due to a promise I made to Odin, who once defended your realm when your species was still learning to walk upright. My life depends on my upholding this agreement."

Bruce crossed his arms over his chest, unmoved.

"Sure," he replied in a mocking tone. "I'm supposed to just believe that you've turned over a new leaf, that you're suddenly looking out for Earth's best interests because of some promise you made to your dad. You're the God of  _Lies_ ," he said, raising his voice for emphasis. "We were nothing but ants to you, the last time you were here."

"Let us say you have elevated yourself to slightly more than ants in my opinion," Loki said tightly.

"Oh, that's nice," Banner remarked with his characteristic mild sarcasm. "That's real nice of you. So what are we now? Cockroaches?"

"I said slightly."

"You're not really earning any sympathy points here."

"You understand the duality of a single mind, Dr. Banner," Loki leaned forward in his seat, trying to appeal to what little common ground they both shared. "You of all of them I thought would be able to consider the possibility that my actions three years ago were not wholly of my own choosing."

A bitter smile came to Bruce's face, and he let out a humorless chuckle that was tinged in sadness.

"Yeah. See, that's what none of you seem to get," he shook his head. "My mind isn't the Other Guy's mind. It's  _mine_. And his is…his. So don't try to compare what you did to me and the Other Guy. It's not even close."

"I am not trying to deny my culpability with what took place," Loki said firmly. "But I was not entirely sane when I attempted to take over this realm. Had I been able to resist the scepter…I believe my actions would have been different."

"That's really the best story you've got?" Banner exclaimed. He brought up his hands, half-waving them around as he continued in a mocking, sing-song voice, " 'Oh, this thing took me over, it's not my fault I killed a bunch of people.' " His hands dropped back down to his sides and his voice resumed its normal tone. "Pretty weak excuse."

Loki huffed in frustration and then tried a different tactic: "You have met Sabrina Nolan, correct?"

Banner's expression immediately became guarded. "Yeah. She's helped us –" he caught himself, then amended, "Nick said you were working with her. And that no one's supposed to tell her the truth about you."

"Twice now she has sought me out in the dead of night," Loki informed him, "under the influence of the scepter, and then regains consciousness with no memory of what has happened. Tonight's episode ended in her having a seizure."

Alarm flickered across Banner's face at the word 'seizure,' but then his expression grew cagey.

"What are SHIELD's true intentions with her?" Loki asked quietly.

No answer.

"Dr. Banner, you know what it is like to have your mind stolen away from you," Loki urged. "That is what is happening to her, and I suspect whatever SHIELD is doing may in fact be causing her harm. Surely you can agree she has suffered enough."

Banner looked back in bafflement at Loki, and his mouth dropped open once more in shocked realization. "Wait a minute…" he breathed. "Are you saying you actually  _care_  about her?"

Loki glanced away, fixing his eyes on a dent in the desk as he carefully considered his answer.

"I am saying," he replied after a time, "that were I to succumb to the scepter again…" He lifted his eyes back to Banner, holding his gaze, "I hope that this time your counterpart finishes me off completely."

Banner stared at him.

Loki waited for the man to reply, but he continued to stand there in mute shock. When it became clear that the conversation was finished, Loki stood up and went to leave, muttering a sarcastic, "Well, I thank you for your time, Dr. Banner," as he walked past him on his way to the door.

He had almost reached the threshold when Banner's voice came from behind him:

"Tony had a theory…"

Loki turned around. Banner's suspicion was obvious, but something in Loki's sobering request for him to end his life had clearly resonated.

"He had a theory at the scepter isn't just a, a thing – that it has a consciousness," he continued. "We were working on trying to prove that. Sabrina getting involved was a total coincidence."

Banner walked past Loki and sat down at the desk, his fingers starting to fly across the keyboard. Loki came to stand behind him, watching as the schematic of the scepter disappeared from the left-hand screen to be replaced by images of silhouettes of people and auras of various colors surrounding them.

"She used to work for Tony," Banner was still typing rapidly. Not taking his eyes from the computer screens, he absently reached down and opened the desk drawer to pull out his glasses. "He had been checking, just keeping tabs to see how she was doing. He put it together that her auras got worse every time we were running tests on the scepter. So we brought her in."

"And what did you learn?"

"The scepter amplifies her ability to see the auras," Banner explained. The screen was now displaying what appeared to be tests results, along with names of people, dates, and corresponding percentages to each color of aura. "It's a form of energy that we've never seen before. Not everyone has it, and not everyone who has it is able to use it. Inhumans can."

Loki glanced down at Banner, confused.

"Exceptional people with special abilities," he clarified. "Superpowers, I guess you could call them."

Loki raised an eyebrow. "And what does SHIELD intend to do with these…inhumans?"

Banner took his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose, suddenly looking tired.

"They want to continue to Avengers Initiative," he answered. "To find more inhumans and try to recruit them into helping defend the Earth from…well,  _you_ ," he gave Loki a meaningful frown, "and any other aliens you brought our way. That's why they're trying to get Sabrina's memories back. If she can remember what happened, then it means SHIELD can use the Chitauri weapons they recovered and duplicate the blast she got hurt in – minus the casualties, obviously," he added. "But  _something_  happened that day that left her with the ability to see this energy. Figuring out what that factor was and trying to mechanize it means SHIELD can expand the search and find more inhumans a lot faster."

Hearing the term 'mechanize,' Loki immediately recalled one of Brynn's offhand comments –  _SHIELD was to see everything. Use me like an energy-sensing metal detector, or patent my brain cells._

She was far more astute than anyone was giving her credit for – possibly even including himself, he realized.

Banner sat back in his seat, watching as Loki mulled over this new information. 

"Assuming I am able to help her recover this memory," he asked, "how do you intend to explain to her that what she recalls is not a car accident?"

Banner took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, the lines around his mouth tightening.

"That's Dr. Ives's territory, so I'm staying in my lane with this one, but I don't really know how she'll react," he admitted. He sounded troubled. "She's going to know the difference between an explosion and her car getting T-boned."

At the word "explosion," a sickening prospect occurred to Loki, one that he had not considered before.

"Her husband – was he with her that day?" he asked, taking care to keep his voice neutral.

"No," Banner said emphatically. He had caught the implication of Loki's question. "He was on a different floor."

Loki closed his eyes and gave a silent sigh of relief. Under no circumstances would he permit Brynn to go through such an experience, let alone be the one to facilitate it.

"God," Banner was saying. "SHIELD can be bad, but they're not  _that_  bad. They're not trying to make her re-live watching him die. Tony confirmed that they weren't on the same floor. He would've have told SHIELD to go to hell, otherwise," he said adamantly. "We both would have."

"But that's precisely what she is anticipating," Loki pointed out, "remembering images of him dying alongside her."

"I know," Banner acknowledged. Again, that troubled tone had returned to his voice. "But I was there when Tony pitched the idea to her, and she understood what she was signing up for."

Loki's eyes narrowed.

"And what, exactly, was the idea that Tony 'pitched' ?"

"A chance to protect humanity," Banner said simply.

A skeptical, "Hmph," was Loki's only response. "Tell me more about this form of energy," he requested, wanting to change the subject.

"That the inhumans have? We've been calling it Seidr –"

Loki let out a condescending bark of laughter, and Banner peered up at him. "What's so funny?"

"You mean to tell me SHIELD has convinced you and your ilk that you all possess an affinity for  _magic_?" Loki exclaimed, still chuckling. "That  _Seidr_  is the source of your exceptional abilities?"

"That's their theory," Banner said defensively. "I mean, it's obviously not true in my case, but I'm not saying I believe it, either."

"And well you shouldn't," Loki retorted.

"So then what is it?" Banner swiveled in his chair to turn and face Loki directly. "What is it that she's is seeing?"

"She _is_ seeing magic," he answered, "but your theory is only half-correct. Seider is a trait inherent in many races throughout Yggdrasil. Centuries ago, the Aesir often made a game of coming down to Earth and mingling with the locals, shall we say. The offspring of these couplings were not immortal, of course, but the presence of Seidr was passed on through the generations. Your kind have never possessed the ability to use it, but the traces remain.  _That_  is the source of Brynn's auras. It has nothing to do with…inhumans."

"But how do you  _know?"_  Banner pressed.

Loki's brows knit together, bristling at the scientist's skepticism. "How do I know what?"

"How do you know we've never possessed the ability to use Seidr?" Banner demanded. "How do you know that's  _not_  what gives inhumans their abilities?"

"Your brains are not sophisticated enough to harness it," Loki sniffed, gesturing towards the diagrams displayed upon the computer screens. "It is simply not possible."

Banner was starting to look annoyed by these arrogant declarations and continued the argument.

"Oh, so you've got neurologists on Asgard who understand human physiology?" he challenged. "When was the last time one of you guys actually took a  _look_  at a human brain?"

"Jane Foster's, during the Convergence," Loki shot back. "And aside from an admittedly higher level of intellect, I can assure you there was  _nothing_  exceptional about her mind."

"Okay, but maybe her ancestors weren't sleeping around with your grandparents," Bruce pointed out. "Maybe you need to look at other peoples' minds." He looked at the computer screens for a moment, thinking hard, and then glanced back up at Loki. "Would you recognize what you're looking for if you saw it? Saw a brain scan of someone who's a known inhuman?"

Loki shook his head. "Unlikely. Your kind's physical makeup has never been an interest of mine." Privately, he reminded himself that he  _would_  need to make it an interest of his, if he was able to convince Brynn to stay with him.

"Well, who's someone who can?" Banner asked.

The name dropped from Loki's lips without even having to think about it: "Eir."

"Who's Eir?"

"The most talented healer in all the realms," he answered. This was no exaggeration. "If anyone would know, it would be her."

"Let's send her some brain scans," Banner suggested. "Use mystical email, or whatever you guys have, and see what she says."

Loki hid his irritation behind a scowl. There was validity to Banner's theory. Much as he wanted to ignore this fact, not pursuing it risked overlooking a potentially crucial piece of information.

"Now what's wrong?" Bruce asked when Loki didn't answer.

"I am forced to admit that your idea has merit," he grudgingly replied.

Banner half-smiled. "Wow. One point for humanity."

"Let us hope it remains that way," Loki said dryly. "I am in possession of an iPad. Is it possible to convey this information to it?" He gestured to the screen.

"Yeah." Bruce opened a drawer in the desk and took out a small square pad of paper and a pen. He quickly scribbled a series of digits and dashes, pulled the top sheet of the pad off and then handed the slip of paper to Loki. "That's my number. Send me a text when you get back, and I'll send you the files."

As Loki tucked the paper away into a pocket, Banner swiveled back to the computer and began typing once more. A dossier popped up on the screen, displaying an image of an attractive, dark-haired young woman. 

"Who is Daisy Johnson?" Loki inquired, reading the name at the top of the dossier.

"A SHIELD agent," Bruce answered, still typing, "who's also an inhuman. We've got a lot of data on her. Might as well send your doctor a complete picture."

"And what are her...superpowers?" 

"Vibration manipulation." Bruce felt the scornful look Loki was aiming his way and added, "It's a lot more impressive than it sounds, trust me. How long will it take you to hear back from her?"

"From Eir? Not long," Loki answered. He drummed his fingers against his thigh, debating what step to take next. "When do you intend to run more tests with the scepter?"

"We were supposed to start back up tomorrow – I mean, today." 

"Which means the two times Brynn came to me are unlikely to be related to the tests you've been running," Loki mused, thinking out loud. "Although..."

Banner tore his eyes away from his screen. "What?"

"The scepter is trying to use her as a means of getting to me," Loki explained, "but the possessions may have been going on for much longer. She mentioned frequently waking up in different parts of the Helicarrier."

"That...that doesn't make any sense," Bruce protested. "Why wouldn't she have said something to us? Or to Dr. Ives? We've been working with her since last spring. I mean, we took a break for a couple of months when I was in Haiti, but she never said a thing about – sleepwalking."

Again, Brynn's voice echoed in Loki's mind:  _Everyone lies to me, all the time._

"One of many of Dr. Ives's so-called insights about Brynn was that she is 'inclined to believe what she's been told,'" Loki remarked. "I do not think that's actually the case, at least not anymore."

"Maybe. I wish she would have said something, though." Bruce picked up his pen and began to doodle on the pad, clearly concerned that she had chosen to withhold this information from him. "Where's she now?"

"In my quarters, asleep," Loki answered. "The door is warded."

"You trapping her in there?" Surprisingly, Banner's tone was not accusatory. "Or are you afraid someone's going to come after her?"

"The latter," Loki said shortly. "I do not trust the psychiatrist."

"Dr. Ives? Really?" Banner seemed genuinely surprised by this. "She's like a tiger mom to Sabrina. She read me the riot act before I left because she thought I had been pushing her too hard. And, she's made a  _lot_  of progress with her. You wouldn't have recognized her six months ago." He paused, remembering. "She was like a scared rabbit. And now…well, you've seen her."

Loki's mouth quirked in a half-smile. 'Scared rabbit' were among the last words that he would ever use to describe Brynn.  

"Plus," Banner added confidently, "Tony's vetted her. She's fine."

Loki's smile grew bitter. "That gives me no reassurance whatsoever."

"I think you're being a little paranoid," Banner observed. He picked up his pen and began doodling on the notepad. Another question occurred to him, and he glanced up at Loki. "What kind of a seizure was it?"

Loki looked back at him blankly. Humans could have more than one type of seizure?

"I…don't know what you mean," he admitted.

"Did she fade out, like she just stopped hearing you for a few minutes?" Banner asked. "Or was it convulsions?"

Loki swallowed hard; the memory of Brynn contorting on the floor was one he would unlikely ever forget. "Convulsions."

"She'll be asleep for awhile, then," Banner explained. "Probably ten, twelve hours. You're gonna keep an eye on her the whole time?"

"Yes."

Loki expected this to elicit a protest from Banner, but the scientist took his answer in stride and continued, "OK. She's going to be really tired for a couple of days. You may want to hold off on … whatever it is you're doing to help her remember the accident. At least until we can make sure there's no more seizure activity."

"Of course," Loki agreed, thinking to himself that he was not going to do a damned thing to  _ever_  help Brynn remember the accident.

He would need to start planning his admission of failure with Fury...

"Why me?" Bruce asked him suddenly, pulling Loki out of his train of thought. "The last time I saw you, you wanted to use me to get to the Other Guy. I was some part of your big plan, so you could be king of the earth." He paused. "Why not ask Tony? He's got the fancy tech, not to mention an ego that's probably equal to yours."

"You are a man of science, Dr. Banner," Loki answered, "and so I hoped you would be willing to entertain an improbability, even one as unlikely as the possibility of my coming to you with good intentions. Also," he added, "I simply don't like Tony."

Banner regarded him thoughtfully for a long moment, so long that Loki began to grow resentful of the other man's scrutiny.

"Something's changed," Banner said finally. "With you, I mean. You're different."

"Mm. Make no mistake, doctor," Loki flashed him a humorless smirk, "I am hardly reformed. But in this particular instance," he nodded to the computer, "you are correct; I bear no ill will."

"But why  _this_  instance?" Banner wanted to know. Some of his initial suspicion had returned, and he fixed Loki with a hard look. "Why her?"

For a brief moment Loki almost told him the truth:

Because he wanted a second chance.

Because he hoped to find a little meaning in the empty existence that was the remainder of his life.

Because he wanted Frigga to be able to gaze down upon him from Valhalla, and see tangible evidence that some shred of her son remained, and that he was still capable of doing the right thing.

Because Brynn was possibly the only person left in the universe who knew him only as Loki, and not the inferior prince, or the Liesmith, or the God of Mischief, or the Mad Titan's puppet.

And because he loved her, and he simply was tired of fighting.

"Good night, Dr. Banner," Loki said quietly, and then left the room as silently as he had entered.

* * *

Brynn was still out cold when Loki returned, and did not appear to have moved an inch since he had left an hour earlier. Suddenly exhausted, he joined her under the covers, pulled her against him, and fell right to sleep.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bring on the feels, my friends.

It was well into mid-morning when Loki reawakened. The lamp had been turned on and the glare felt painfully bright, even through his eyelids.

Eyes still closed, he groggily reached out an arm and felt around for Brynn. The space beside him was empty. Frowning, he raised his head from the pillow and found her huddled at the end of the bed, sitting up with her back against the wall, legs drawn to her chest and arms wrapped around her knees. She was staring out into space, her face a picture of abject dread.

He raised himself up a bit more from the pillow. "Brynn?"

She had been so lost in thought that she started at the sound of his voice. Loki started to hush her and moved onto his knees to go to her, but she was already talking over him.

"I know I had a seizure, but I don't remember anything," she said, words tumbling out in a frenzied rush. "What happened? How did I end up here?"

Loki thought fast. He needed to tell her about the scepter, but could tell she was on the verge of panic. Hearing the news that she was being possessed would do nothing to mitigate her alarm.

"You came to my room," he explained, deliberately keeping his words slow, his voice measured and calm, "same as the last time, but…yes, you had a seizure. It lasted several minutes and then you woke up. You were alert enough to talk a little, and then I broughy you to bed and we both fell asleep."

"How long?" Brynn asked him urgently, "How long was I asleep?"

Loki glanced over to the digital clock that hung on the opposite wall. "Eleven hours, give or take."

She looked away, processing this information for a few seconds. Then she nodded to herself, as if confirming something in her mind, and started crawling over Loki to get out of bed. 

"Just lie down," Loki insisted, trying to get her to lay back, but Brynn shoved him away and continued to force herself forward. Her muscles ached from the intense contractions caused by the seizure, and he saw her bite back a yelp of pain as she swung her legs down to the floor.

He kept reaching for her in a futile attempt to stop her, "Brynn –"

"I need to pee," she snapped, standing up.

Loki clamped his mouth shut.

Brynn hobbled her way to the bathroom and returned a few minutes later, still wearing the expression of a trapped animal. Loki had fetched a bottle of water from the small refrigerator and was waiting for her by the door. He twisted the top off and held it out; she took it from him, drank a few swallows and then slumped back against the wall to stare at the floor.

"Try to have some more," Loki encouraged.

Ignoring him, Brynn closed her eyes and pressed the heel of her palm to her forehead. She took a deep breath, released it slowly, and opened her eyes again. Loki had the impression she was trying to go through a series of steps to calm herself, but her efforts appeared to be having little effect.

She had a few more sips of the water and then numbly walked past him to sit back down on the edge of the bed.

Loki turned as she went by, his hands hanging uselessly at his sides. He wanted to go to her, hold her, do  _something_ , but anxiety was rolling off her in waves, so much that he worried even the slightest touch might set her over the edge.

"Why did you not come back yesterday?" he asked her softly. "After your session?"

She was staring at the floor again. "I-I don't know."

He sighed. "Brynn..."

"No, I mean I  _don't know."_ Now she raised her face to look up at him, and the anguish Loki saw in her eyes broke his heart. More was coming back to her, yet she still seemed to be coming up blank. "I don't remember anything after I left Dr. Ives's office. I…" Her voice trailed off as she desperately tried to remember. "I left…"

"It's all right," he soothed, taking a cautious step towards her.

"No, it's  _not_  all right," Brynn moaned. She reached up a hand and impatiently scrubbed away the tears that had started to trail down her cheeks. "It  _not_  all right because –" She stopped short as another thought occurred to her.

"I – I lost – how many hours did I lose?" she shakily asked herself. "One, two," she was counting on her fingers now but kept losing track, until Loki gently supplied, "Eight. Your session would have ended at five. You came here at about one and fell asleep not long after. Eight hours."

"Eight hours," she repeated. The tears started again as this information registered and spilled down her cheeks in a steady stream, but she paid them no mind, too caught up in trying to bridge the gaps in her memory. "I lost eight hours and I don't remember  _any_  of it. Which means it wasn't just one seizure, it was a lot of them. Which means the Carbatrol isn't working anymore."

"Can that not be changed?"

"Yes!" Brynn snapped at him, "But that's not the point! Don't you get it? This means my brain isn't getting better anymore! This means I might be like  _this_  for the rest of my life! This means – this means – this means – "

The words were getting stuck in her throat, and her choked stammering grew worse the harder she tried to speak. She began to gulp for air in shuddering gasps. The bottle of water slipped from her hand and landed on the floor, its contents spilling in every direction as she began to tremble.

Loki watched her for several moments coming to a swift decision. He crossed the room in two fast strides, bending forward to tightly wrap Brynn in both of his arms as he pulled her down to the bed. He laid himself atop of her as they went, pinning her flat on her back beneath him so they lay shoulder-to-shoulder, using the weight of his body to apply as much pressure against her as he thought was safe.

He lowered his cheek to hers and said, "You need to breathe," following this up with, "Do you trust me? Nod yes or no."

He felt a quick nod.

"You are safe," he said firmly into her ear, "and I shall let you up the instant you tell me to, but you need to stop thinking and  _breathe_. Do you want me to move?"

She vehemently shook her head.

Reassured that she understood his intentions, Loki repeated himself: "You're safe. Try not to think and just breathe."

Over and over he reiterated this mantra to Brynn, keeping her ensconced beneath him to surround her in a cocoon of steady pressure between him and mattress. He remained alert for even the slightest indication she wanted him to move, but she said nothing, and her shaking gradually began to subside.

Once she had stilled, Loki propped himself over her with his elbows and studied her face. Her cheeks were tearstained, but her breathing was steady, and the clarity had returned to her eyes.

"Better?"

"Yeah," she whispered. "A lot better. How…how did you know to do that?"

"I used to experience something similar, as a child," Loki explained. He started to shift away but Brynn's hands snaked up between them and fisted his shirt. He compromised by sliding an arm under her waist and then rolled onto his back, taking her with him and reversing their positions so she lay on top of him instead.

"My brother could always tell when one was starting up," he continued. He adjusted his head on the pillow and brought his other arm around her shoulders to keep her snugly embraced. "Even when he was loafing around like a fool or in an entirely different part of the palace, somehow, he knew, and he would come. Every time.  _'You've got that look, brother,'_ he'd say. And then he would bear hug me until I was able to think clearly again."

More than a millennia later, Loki still vividly recalled these instances – not a particular time or circumstance, but rather the all-encompassing fear that he had felt. As if he were paralyzed in an endless cycle of panic that neither of his parents understood, not even his mother. And although Thor did not understand it either, he knew what to  _do_.

In his mind Loki was a boy again, trapped in that vicious whirlwind of emotions, his pulse racing away and the walls closing in and around him and through him and his breath getting so stuck in his throat that he felt himself starting to suffocate and knowing in his heart that he would never feel anything else in his entire life but helplessness and fear –

Until Thor's arms came around him and everything  _stopped_. All of it. The world careening around him and in him stilled and shrank to just the rumble of Thor's voice in his ear, repeating the same words to Loki that he had said to Brynn.

_Breathe._

_You're safe._

_Don't think, just breathe_.

Thor. His oafish, brainless brother, a veritable bilgesnipe in a china shop, who hardly knew his own strength as a boy, yet could always hug Loki just tightly enough without crushing him.

A tear rolled down Loki’s temple. He took a deep breath and finished his story.

"Feeling the pressure around me always seemed to help stave off the fear,” he continued, his voice thoughtful and quiet. “I'm not sure why. But it worked, and as I grew older I eventually learned to manage the fear on my own."

"I can't imagine you being afraid of anything," Brynn mused when he fell silent. "Even as a little kid."

"I fear many things. Your temper, mainly."

He felt her smile into his neck.

"Brynn."

"Hm?" She was starting to sound sleepy.

"I am going to tell you something, and I need you to promise me that once you hear the whole story, you'll not go searching for answers on your own."

"'Kay."

"I mean it."

"You're not the boss of me."

"Then pretend for a moment that I am."

"Hi, boss."

Loki chuckled quietly.

"Bruce Banner has been running tests with you and the scepter, correct?"

Brynn lifted her head up to look at him. "How did you know?" she asked, shocked. "That’s all supposed to be classified."

"He and I have a previous association," Loki replied vaguely. "I noticed him in the hallway yesterday and sought him out after you fell asleep."

For a moment Brynn appeared on the verge of asking a question, but instead re-tucked her head under his chin and said nothing.

"Are you still listening?"

"Yeah, my neck just hurts.  _All_  of me hurts," she added with a mutter. "Why did you go and see him?"

Loki took a deep breath, trying to draw strength from the warmth of her body against his as he prepared himself for what he was about to tell her.

"The scepter has a – a consciousness, for lack of a better word," he began, keeping his eyes trained on the ceiling. "I encountered it a number of years ago, and…it took me over. It sought out every insult and pain and trauma I had experienced up until that point in my life, and then twisted my mind into believing that with its help, I could right all of those wrongs."

The scepter alone had not been what tore his mind and soul apart, but Loki could not fathom trying to explain his time with Thanos.

"Eventually I was able to break free," he told her, "but now that I am back in its presence, here on the Helicarrier, it is seeking me out again. I am stronger now," he added quickly. "Much stronger. I have been able to resist it, but it is using you as a conduit to reach me.

"That is why you came to my room both times," he continued, "and I believe  _that_  is why you had the seizure. It was an external force, not something that came from within your brain. I realize this doesn't explain the eight-hour gap in your memory, but I don't think the seizure was completely related to what happened last night."

It took Brynn a long while to answer – hardly a surprise given the enormity of information he had just laid before her.  

Loki eased his embrace and began to stroke her hair as he waited for her to respond. She had left it loosely braided but it was on the verge of falling out, as was the elastic band holding it together. Without knowing why, he eased the band off with one hand and loosened what was left of the braid. Masses of wavy hair spilled across her shoulders. He neatly swept it all to one side to keep it out of her face, and started running his fingers through the long tresses, gently loosening any tangles he encountered along the way.

"Bruce and Tony…never told me any of that," Brynn finally said. She sounded as she she felt betrayed. "They never said anything about it having a consciousness. They just said if we could target the auras more, that it would help find people who could help humanity."

Loki's fingers continued to slowly drift through her hair. "You told me last night that you'd had a dream," he said. "Parts of it made sense, but then you spoke of a lab, Dr. Ives, and wires. Does any of that sound familiar?"

Brynn shifted to look at him and mutely shook her head. The shadows under her eyes had deepened, and the snarky shield of indifference of hers that he had come to know so well had fallen away. For the first time since Loki had known her, she looked truly afraid.

He freed his hand from her hair and brought it up to cup her face.

"Brynn, I swear on my life that I will keep you safe," he told her adamantly. He leaned up to kiss her forehead, then tilted back to look at her directly once more. "But there are forces at work here that even I do not fully understand. Promise me you won't go off on your own and try to play detective."

Some of the insolence came right back into her eyes at this request. "No."

Loki frowned, trying to read her. "No, you won't try to play detective, or no, you won't promise?"

"No, I won't promise," Brynn told him stubbornly. "It's me that all this is happening to, and I don't need to get your permission if I want to go looking for answers."

He sighed and moved his hand from her cheek to grasp her shoulder. "That's not what I meant —"

"What do you mean the scepter took you over?" she interrupted.

Loki let his head fall back to the pillow and closed his eyes. He had been long anticipating this question, and had an answer at the ready, yet he still found himself reluctant to say it aloud. But what he held in his arms at that moment was simply too precious to risk by revealing the truth.

Besides, he  _was_  going to tell her the truth – enough of it, anyway.

"When I asked you about Sammy's history," he said quietly, "you told me that it was too painful to discuss, and I've not inquired about it since. The events that led up to my falling under the scepter's influence are among the most agonizing moments of my life. What took place while I was under the its control was…horrific. And when I was myself again, there was no undoing any of it. I am trying to make amends as best I can, but looking back on it all brings me nothing but pain. So please, Brynn – please do not ask me to talk about it."

Brynn gave him a piercing look. "Did this have anything to do with you finding out you were adopted?"

"Some of it, yes," he said reluctantly, startled when her only response was to lay her head back down on his chest.

"Okay."

"Okay what?"

"Okay, I won't ask you." Brynn rubbed her face into his breastbone, cat-like, and then settled back against him. "I was a caseworker for a lot of infant adoptions," she explained, "before I worked for Stark Outreach. The kids  _always_  grew up knowing they had first families, right from the start. The adoption wouldn't go through if both families weren't able to commit to being open about it. Finding that out as an adult…that's devastating. I don't blame you for not wanting to talk about the fallout. I mean, you were what, not even thirty when your dad told you the truth?"

Loki had resumed playing with her hair but his hand stilled when he heard her question. "Erm, not quite."

"But you said it was a few years ago?"

"I was older. Quite a bit older."

Brynn lifted her head again to peer up at him. "Loki, how old  _are_  you?"

"I stopped keeping track after twelve hundred years," he said awkwardly.

Something in her eyes seemed to break when he told her this.

"Please tell me you're joking," she whispered.

Loki shook his head. She continued to gape at him a second or two longer and then burst into tears – hard, sobbing, hysterical tears. He had never seen her really cry, and he was at a complete loss how to respond.

"Brynn – what –"

"I can't wrap my head around a universe that's this big," she wept into his shirt. "I just can't do it. Aliens, gods, magic… _scepters_. How is any of this even  _real?!_  Everything's changed so much since Sammy died and I can't keep up anymore." Loki's hand came up to clasp the back of her head, and she choked out, "It's just too much, and I'm getting lost in all of it…"

"Then let me be your anchor," he suggested quietly.

Brynn just kept crying.

"I have traveled throughout the World Tree more times than I can count, through pathways known and unknown," he told her. Images of his explorations throughout the centuries flitted across his mind's eye. "Yet somehow, in a universe as vast as ours, I found  _you_."

Her sobs began to ease up to the occasional hiccup as he spoke, and he felt her starting to relax into him again.

"You are not lost, Brynn," he reassured her. "You're simply part of something bigger. You've always been, you just never knew it; none of humanity did. Yes, the world you knew is far greater than you ever imagined, and yes, some of it  _is_  frightening, but not all of it. And I'm here. I'll always be here. Have some faith, my love."

The endearment fell so naturally from his lips that it took a few seconds for Loki to realize what he had said. 

 _Stupid, stupid, stupid!_  he cursed himself. _You wretched,_ **stupid** _fool, what have you done?_

This was not part of the plan, bearing his heart to her so quickly!

He laid there, frozen in place, fully braced for the worst.

One heartbeat.

Two heartbeats.

Three heartbeats.

"Brynn?" he whispered hoarsely when she still had not spoken or moved. "Gods of all the realms, Brynn," his voice cracked, "say  _something_."

Still no answer. He finally mustered together enough courage to lift his head and take a quick peek at her, and then fell back against the pillow with a guttered sigh of relief. She was asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My background is in child psych (one of the reasons I find it so fascinating to spend time in Loki's head). His putting Brynn in a bearhug is a method often used with kids who have sensory disorders or trouble with emotional regulation. Typically it's in the form of weighted vests or weighted blankets, as well as teaching them to hug themselves when their stress levels begin to escalate. Full body compression is another technique to help someone de-escalate during moments of intense distress or over-stimulation. (For those of you familiar with Temple Grandin, she talks about developing a squeeze machine that she used for this purpose.)
> 
> I made a concerted effort to write the scene in a way that demonstrated Loki's intent was not to take advantage of Brynn. He knew what she was feeling from personal experience, and so opted to try a strategy that had worked for him as a child. As that scene is written, his actions are not a form of non-con or anything else of the sort. If that's not clear when you read it, let me know and I will try to rewrite it.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the slow burn elements of this fic are finally starting to catch fire, and the author realizes she should have broken this up into separate chapters...

Loki sat beside Brynn for several more hours in bed, iPad in hand and exploring more of the Internet as she slept.

He exchanged several text messages with Banner, confirming receipt of the data file, and did some swearing of his own when Banner indicated Tony Stark was to arrive the following day.

Brynn woke up to the sound of Loki cursing under his breath in ancient Norse, and after demanding a translation -- and then disabling Loki's iPad when he refused -- headed off to something called an EEG to assess her recent seizure activity.

Loki dressed for the day, conjured a duplicate iPad (he was amassing quite the collection), and occupied himself with the task of sending Banner's data file to Eir. It took some doing, but with Heimdall's grudging assistance with the Bifrost and some creative spell work, the file successfully made its way to Asgard.

That chore complete, Loki went back to surfing the web. He was skimming through an article on Slashdot when a new text popped up, again from Banner.

_YT?_

What does YT mean?

_YT = are you there. Did she get back from the EEG?_

Not yet. Or should I use "NY?"

_OK. Just heard back from Tony. He'll be here at 3 tomorrow._

How thrilling. A question for you – did any of your tests with Brynn and the scepter involve wires?

_No, why?_

She made mention of it. Exactly how were your tests being conducted?

_Let's talk more in person tomorrow. Level 12, lab 3. Turn left at the first corner and it's the second one on your right. Passcode is 112267._

ILFTI.

_Huh?_

I look forward to it. What is the point of these acronyms, anyway?

_Cute. SYL._

Loki set the iPad aside and stretched out on the bed, clasping his hands behind his head and gazing up at the ceiling. Banner's file about the inhumans would have reached Asgard by now. Assuming Thor still remembered how to read, the only remaining step was for him to follow the directions Loki had provided for modifying the Soul Forge, which would allow Eir to review the data contained within the file.

Not that any of these efforts mattered. Whatever so-called energy the humans had stumbled upon, it was  _not_  Seidr.

Loki was checking on his still-disabled iPad when he heard a knock on the door. He turned his head, eyes narrowing when the wards indicated his guest was none other than Dr. Ives.

His face settled into a mask of steely calm, and he rose up from the bed to answer the door.

Dr. Ives stood waiting on the other side of the threshold, arms crossed, the index finger on her right hand tapping agitatedly against her left upper arm. She drew herself up as Loki opened the door. She was of relatively small stature, and even with the help of her sensibly-heeled shoes, he towered over her.

"Dr. Ives," he coolly acknowledged.

"Mr. Laufeyson," she greeted him in return, her voice equally neutral. "Could we talk for a few minutes?"

Saying nothing, Loki stepped aside to allow her to enter.

She walked in and turned to face him as soon as the door closed. Dispensing with the pleasantries, she went straight to the point and announced, "I take it you're aware that Brynn had a seizure last night?"

Loki did not bother to stop himself from rolling his eyes. He would never understand humans' tendency to start a conversation by stating the obvious.

"Seeing as I was with her when it happened," he replied, moving to lean casually against the desk, "then yes, I am aware she had a seizure last night. What of it?"

"I need to know  _exactly_  what took place," Dr. Ives explained firmly. "Down to the tiniest detail, no matter how insignificant."

"She arrived at one," he answered, deciding to make a game out of providing her with as much useless information as possible. "She had a seizure. She fell asleep, here, and then woke up. Is that sufficient? Or would you care to also know the color of her nightclothes?"

"Did she mention anything afterwards?" Dr. Ives asked. "Anything at all?"

"Only that her head hurt," Loki shrugged. "She had no memory of anything when she awoke this morning."

"And then what happened?" Dr. Ives pressed.

"I seduced her and then stole her back to Asgard."

She sighed and looked at him plaintively, practically wringing her hands with frustration.  _"Please_  be serious, Mr. Laufeyson," she implored. "There's nothing about this situation that's funny."

Loki let out a huff. "She left for an EEG and I've not seen her since."

Dr. Ives fell silent and started to mull this all over, still looking quite skeptical.

"Madam, is there a purpose for this visit?" Loki inquired, his impatience mounting. "I'm rather busy at the moment."

Her eyes flew back up to his face. "Planning your next coup?" she asked sharply.

He smirked. "Hard to say. Ask me tomorrow."

Dr. Ives took a deep breath and fixed Loki with a hard look.

"I'm here as a professional courtesy," she informed him, "to let you know that am going to recommend to Director Fury that your involvement in this project has reached its natural conclusion."

Loki said nothing. The seconds dragged by as Dr. Ives looked back at him expectantly, waiting for him to make some kind of reply.

"Oh," he feigned confusion, "Was this the part where I supposed to ask you why?"

Her lips pressed together in frustration, but her voice remained calm as she explained, "I don't think it's a coincidence that Brynn started having seizures again as soon as you came on board. Clearly whatever machinations you're doing to recover her memories are actually harming her."

"That would be quite the theory," Loki thoughtfully agreed, "except I've not read her mind since my first day here."

Dr. Ives's eyes widened in shock behind her glasses.

"So what have you been doing this whole tice?" she exclaimed.

"Getting to know her," he snapped. "I explained to all of you at the outset that this is a gradual undertaking. What you are asking her to recall is extraordinarily painful, and a memory that traumatic is not as simple as plucking fruit from a tree. Having said that," he lifted his chin with a sly smile, "given last night's recent developments, I am sure you will agree that I should continue to refrain from any additional…machinations."

The tables thusly turned, Dr. Ives could only stare at him in speechless astonishment. It was abundantly clear that she wanted him gone, and irony of ironies, the God of Lies had just caught her in her own trap by telling the  _truth_.

"Shall I update Director Fury," Loki silkily inquired, "or would you prefer to do so yourself?"

She shook her head, as if she was preparing to admit defeat.

"Have you even read a single page of the case notes I've given you?" she asked quietly.

"Not a word," he drawled.

Dr. Ives threw her hands up in exasperation. " _Why_?"

Her distress seemed genuine, which only increased Loki's suspicions tenfold.

"I set aside  _all_  of my preconceptions," she was saying as she paced the floor, " _everything_  I know about you. I tried to approach _all_ of this in good faith. And you've done _nothing_ this entire time but try to thwart the progress Brynn and I have made together. She has been through  _so_  much…so, so much. I've never worked with a client who has invested so much of herself in trying to heal."

Dr. Ives turned and looked back at him beseechingly. "You said you've been spending time with her. Surely there is some part of you still…"

"Human?" Loki snidely offered.

She shook her head. "I was going to use the word compassionate." She closed her eyes for a moment, collecting herself, and then continued, "I am not under any false illusions about you, Mr. Laufeyson. But the fields of psychiatry and psychology are not black-and-white, and my work exists solely in areas of grey. Make no mistake," she admitted, "I would love to believe you are evil, through and through. And I firmly believe you have been nothing but a deliberate roadblock, these last two weeks."

She paused, taking off her glasses and starting to polish them as she deliberated how to phrase what she was about to say next. Then with a sigh, she put her glasses back on and faced him once more.

"But I am also forced to admit that Brynn has seemed happier, more so than in the entire time I have been working with her. Likewise, I also must admit that you have played a role in that, and for that I am appreciative. I apologize for jumping to conclusions about what happened last night."

Silence fell.

"An impressive performance," Loki finally remarked. "Shall I applaud?"

Dr. Ives frowned. "I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean."

Loki's eyes began to blaze as he looked at her, this woman who exuded nothing but sincerity and concern and warmy’s.  _Something_  was off; he knew it.

He pushed away from the desk, clasping his hands behind his back as he slowly approached her. She stood her ground, but Loki could see her hands had started to shake.

He came to a halt before her a few steps away and leaned down, eyes locking on hers.

"Know this, doctor," Loki told her softly. The air around him was almost crackling with the intensity of his contempt. "I've not found you out,  _yet_. But rest assured I will. And in the meantime, if you touch so much as one hair on Sabrina Nolan's head," his voice dropped to a snarl, "the skies will rain blood, innocents will scream, and  _I will end you."_

Dr. Ives's face went the color of chalk. She took a halting step away from him, and then another. She seemed to be having difficulty breathing, but finally managed to whisper, "You're a monster."

Loki leered back at her. This conversation all seemed rather familiar, but Romanov had been a far worthier opponent.

"Oh, yes" he agreed, his smile widening as he watched her continue to retreat. "And you'd best not forget it."

Dr. Ives slowly made her way to the door, too frightened to attempt a reply. Neither she nor Loki took their eyes from one another as she departed.

* * *

_Brother-_

_Eir finished reviewing the information you sent and has concluded that SHIELD's theory is correct. Seidr is the source of the inhumans' abilities. I find this troubling but still hope for a positive outcome for humanity._

_Heimdall says you are faring well. Do send my best to your complicated mortal._

_\- Thor_

Loki read through Thor's note a second time and grimly shook his head. Life on Midgard was about to get very, very interesting.

* * *

He went in search of Brynn later that afternoon, finally locating her outside on one of the Helicarrier's upper levels. She was standing by the deck railing and watching the ocean. The sun still hung bright in the sky but the shadows were just starting to lengthen, and the glimmers of light on the waves began to increase in their intensity as day began its gradual transition into night.

Brynn's appearance was so different that Loki almost walked past her. She had obviously just gone for a run, but the sight of her flushed and sweaty was not what had thrown him. For one, her long hair was gone, as if it had been hacked off. But it was her  _clothes_  that had him so transfixed.

Until now all he had seen her in were in a variety of SHIELD-issued garb, which even with his colorful alterations did little to emphasize the female form. The clingy long-sleeved shirt and running leggings she currently wore revealed a lithe, curvy figure that sent all the blood in his body straight to his groin.

"What?" she asked, noticing him openly staring as he approached.

Loki correctly surmised that saying something along the lines of,  _If I ever see you in cargo pants again I shall tear them right off and take you straight to bed,_  would be inappropriate and instead went with the safer option:

"Your hair," he exclaimed.

"I cut it off," she said tersely.

Brynn's light brown hair was now a headful of asymmetrical waves, cut shorter at the back of her neck and sweeping forward to a length no further than her chin.

"But…why?" he wanted to know.

"Haven't you ever been so mad you wanted to just do something self-destructive?" Brynn shrugged. She tucked a sweat-dampened strand behind her ear and looked back out at the sea. "I'm doing everything they're telling me to, and the seizures came back anyway. So I got mad. Cutting my hair seemed like a better alternative than playing another game of Russian Roulette with hydrochloric acid. Besides," she muttered, "I was getting sick of it long. It took forever to dry."

She let out a huff when he kept looking at her, wide-eyed.

"Is it really that bad?"

Loki could tell by the acid tone in her voice that she was irritated by his scrutiny, and not concerned about his opinion.

He did not reply and instead reached out to gently twist a short lock of hair around his fingertip. In truth, he had loved her long hair, and relished the sensation of running his fingers through the silky strands the night before. He had hoped to have many, many more opportunities to do so again in the future.

But…

"I like it," he admitted. The results of her literal hack-job weren’t terrible, lending her an almost fey-like appearance that brought to Loki’s mind an image of the water sprite that was her namesake.

He drew his hand back and explained, "Long hair on women is the norm, where I am from. This suits you."

He moved to stand next to her, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the cold metal rail as he gazed out at the churning sea. The Helicarrier was deep in the Pacific and there was no sign of land in sight. A quinjet had taken off a few minutes earlier, leaving white trails of ice vapor across the sky in its wake. Together they watched the lengthening contrail and continued talking.

"How are you feeling?"

"Exhausted. I couldn't even run a mile." Brynn's voice was glum.

The contrail made an abrupt 90-degree angle as the quinjet changed its course, now heading southwest.

"And the EEG?"

"Inconclusive. Hence the haircut."

"What does inconclusive mean in this instance?"

"That my neurologist doesn't know what's going on and I have to double up on the Carbatrol as a precaution," she grimly answered. "So if you thought I was twitchy before, now imagine twitchy except on meth."

Loki had grown so accustomed to her fidgetiness that he did not immediately catch on to what she meant.

"Ah. Well, what would you like to do the rest of the day?"

He saw Brynn make a face out of the corner of his eye. "Loki, I don't know if you've noticed, but there's not a lot to do around here."

"What would you do in your free time when you were still living in Manhattan?" he asked curiously.

"Volunteer," she answered. They were both still watching the contrail. "I helped out a lot at the women's shelters and the food bank. I'd read. Sammy and I would go to concerts, shows, movies. I usually made it up to Rochester a couple of times a month to go riding. Go running in Central Park. Sammy and I ran a lot of 10Ks together, actually." She paused, her eyes growing faraway. "He was after me for years about trying to train for a marathon, and I'd always tell him he was insane – that the human body isn't mean to run that far, and that's why cars were invented."

Until now even the slightest mention of Sammy had never failed to set Loki's teeth on edge, but now he found himself listening intently as Brynn spoke of him.

A wistful smile touched her lips as she continued, "He was really into first-person shooter games, and sometimes we'd play co-op in  _Counter Strike_. I was…awful at it. Like, I couldn't even hit an enemy if it was standing still. But he'd get all of them for me and then insist I did all the work. So, yeah," she concluded with a sigh. She leaned forward and folded her arms on top of the railing, her chin coming to rest on both of her hands as she looked out at the ocean. "I did all the usual things in my free time. Nothing exciting, just not anything I can do here. Except read and run."

"And throw knives," Loki reminded her solemnly. "Hmm. That  _does_  sound like a dismal existence. Good thing that I came along." He gave her a sidelong glance and winked.

This made her smile. "And don't forget therapy. Actually," she added, brightening up a bit, "before you got here, I’d walk around the Helicarrier and try to sneak into places I'm not supposed to be."

"Good heavens," Loki replied, his eyes twinkling. "And did you get caught?"

"Every single time," Brynn said with a laugh, straightening back up. "And this thing they have me helping them with is high up enough that getting caught means I get reamed out by Director Fury himself. That's why he was so mad at me, the day we met," she explained. "Someone had left their key card lying around the night before and I used it to get into one of the weapons bays. I didn't even make it two steps before someone saw me, but, God, he was pissed."

"I wish I could have seen that," Loki remarked, now sounding somewhat wistful himself.

They both fell silent for a time, each lost in their own thoughts as they watched the churning waves created in the wake of the Helicarrier. The wind kept whipping Brynn's newly-shorn hair in all directions, and Loki shifted to watch her instead, while her gaze remained fixed on the ocean.

She suddenly turned to face him.

"How long have you been king?"

"Three years," he answered, wondering where she was going with this.

Brynn looked at him shrewdly. "After everything that happened the scepter?"

Loki's eyes darkened. "I thought your memory was supposed to be bad," he muttered.

"I try really hard to remember the important things," she shrugged. "So, you've been king for three years. No kids?"

His face eased into a neutral expression. "No, I have no children."

"And there's no queen?"

Loki was starting to feel increasingly uncomfortable and conjured up a bottle of Diet Coke in hopes of distracting her.

"Not since my mother died," he answered, twisting the cap off before offering it to Brynn.

She took it in hand and had a quick sip, but then gagged and thrust the bottle back at him.

"Mint," she sputtered; he had forgotten about this curious side effect of using magic around her. "Doesn't go good with Coke. Yuck." She wiped her mouth on the inside cuff of her sleeve, shuddering, and asked, "Why no queen now?"

"Never met the right person, I suppose."

"Yeah, but there had to be a lot of not-the-right-people that you knew in the biblical sense over the last twelve hundred years," Brynn pointed out, blunt as ever. "You don't exactly strike me as the pure-as-the-driven-snow type. Fess up."

He took a long draught of the fizzy beverage, trying to stall. "Biblical sense?"

"Yeah. Fuck buddies."

Loki choked on his soda. He knew Brynn was likely no fair maiden herself, but instances sugh as these made him wonder if she permanently had her head in the gutter.

She grinned at him, delighted by his reaction, and then launched righting back into her interrogation.

"And there's no rule that the king has to have a queen?"

"No," Loki wheezed, still trying to clear his throat. "Why would there be?"

"Line of succession," she shrugged, "that kind of thing."

Now he understood what she was driving at.

"That is a…complicated question," he said slowly. Feeling awkward, he looked down and began to study the red-and-silver label on the bottle. He recognized none of the listed ingredients other than water.

"It's not like I don't have a lot of free time for complicated answers," she pointed out.

He sighed and tried to gather his thoughts. Where to even start?

"You recall me telling you I have an older brother?"

Brynn nodded.

"My adoptive father intended him to be king from the time we were boys," he said, eyes still trained down on the Diet Coke label. _But remember! Only one of you can be king._  "He died three years ago. My brother's circumstances at the time changed those plans, and so I assumed the throne in his stead. He will eventually return to Asgard, and then I will step down."

"And then what'll you do?"

 _See Frigga again_.

Aloud, he said, "That remains to be seen."

"Why didn't he take over three years ago, though?" she wanted to know. "Your brother, I mean."

Loki's mouth quirked and he looked back out across the sea. "He fell in love with a mortal and wanted to remain with her on Midgard."

"Ooh." Brynn blinked in surprise, then remarked, "That sounds…dramatic."

"That would be putting it lightly."

"So that's not allowed? He's in exile because of it?"

"Not in exile," he shook his head. "It was his decision to remain here. And it's not that it isn't  _allowed,_  per say…more that it's unprecedented."

Brynn turned around and leaned her back against the railing, crossing her arms as she thought all of this over. "But doesn't that mean he's going to stay young while she ages?"

Loki's eyes were still fixed on the horizon. "Let us say that I have found a creative solution to that problem."

"An immortality spell?" she guessed.

He glanced over at her; Brynn's face was alight with curiosity and he could not help but smile. "Why all the questions?" he teased. "Are you in pursuit of immortality yourself?"

"God, no," she exclaimed. "Immortality sounds awful. But this is all a lot more interesting than trying to fight my way through  _Anna Karenina_  again." Another thought occurred to her. "Does it bother you that I don't treat you like royalty?"

"At first, yes," Loki admitted with a laugh, "but you, my dear, had a very unique way of getting under my skin. And now I quite prefer it."

Brynn was standing near enough for him to nudge her with his elbow as he said this, and she grinned down at her feet, pleased. This was followed by yet another random shift in topics: "So you're twelve hundred years old."

"A bit more than that. I  _did_  stop counting at twelve hundred, if you recall."

"Bad memory," she deadpanned. "But there  _were_  a lot of fuck buddies during that time, right?"

Loki's head fell into one hand with a quiet groan. "Could you  _please_  not use that term?"

She merrily burst into laughter. "All right, what fancy word should I use instead? Encounters?  _Dalliances_?"

"Anything but…that." He couldn't even bring himself to say the phrase.

"Fine," she agreed, still snickering. "But am I right? That there were lots of dalliances?"

"More than I care to admit," Loki acknowledged, "although nothing compared to my brother."

"Why?"

He looked over at her in confusion. "Why did my brother have many dalliances?"

"No, why have  _you_  had more dalliances than you want to admit?"

His gaze trailed back over to the water. "There were many," he said after a moment. "Few had meaning."

"But how in that much time," she persisted, "and that many dalliances, are there not any mini-Lokis wandering around? Or is the birth control on Asgard just that amazing?"

Loki stood back from the railing to face her. "You are actually asking me this," he exclaimed.

Brynn tapped her temple with a finger. "No filter, remember?" Her smile seemed a little too innocent for him to believe this excuse. "Besides," she continued smugly, "you can't be mad at me. You just said I got under your skin."

Loki pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. She had no way of knowing the sensitivity of what she was asking him to share, or that on most days the topic could set him to silently screaming in his head.

One of the few advantages he had as the younger prince was not being beholden to producing an heir. Up until the day of Thor's banishment, having children was no more than an abstract concept for Loki, but the line of succession fell to him the moment Thor landed on Midgard. Knowing this -- and now aware of his true parentage -- Loki had sought out the medical texts in the library, which told him what he already suspected: Fatherhood was one of many losses that Odin's deception would ultimately cost him.

Gods, he did _not_ want to discuss this.

But behind his eyelids, all he could see was Brynn's infectious smile.

Loki opened his eyes and tried to keep his voice steady. "The reason there are no…mini-Lokis…is that the creature concealed beneath this form can only procreate with its own kind. How I appear to you is a glamour.” 

Brynn was so appalled by his answer that her jaw dropped.

"One, you're a  _person_  and not a creature," she declared. She was wholly put-off by his choice of words; if anything, she seemed angry. "Two,  _procreate_? It's a baby, not a science project."

The plastic bottle in Loki's fist crushed.

"What's so awful about what you actually look like, anyway?" she was asking. "Do you look like Predator or something?"

"I would really rather not discuss it," he said, teeth set.

"So you  _do_  look like Predator?"

Loki glared at her. "You realize I don't have the faintest idea what you mean."

"Of course I do," she shot back, "and if I didn't have to worry about things like refresh rates of LCD screens, we would be bingeing on Netflix right now. Gimme a hint."

"No," he snapped.

"If you don't give me a hint then I'm going to start guessing," she warned.

Loki scowled down at his boots in stony silence, growing angrier by the second as Brynn enthusiastically started conjecturing about his true appearance.

"Green scales," she ventured, "orange eyes. Or maybe no eyes? No, wait, red eyes - oh-oh, you blinked, okay, you've got red eyes. Mowhawk…long hair…short hair…no hair – blinked again! Red eyes, and bald –"

"I'm a Frost Giant," he spat, unable to tolerate her foolishness any longer.

Brynn started laughing again, convinced that he was speaking in jest. "A what?!"

"A Frost Giant!" Loki hissed, rounding on her so violently that she shrank back. "A runt, discarded at birth and left to die in a frozen wasteland! A half-grown, unwanted  _monster_  that my parents told us about to frighten us as children!"

He took a breath and turned his hands over, staring at the pale palms and feeling ill as he envisioned the ridged, blue skin concealed beneath.

"You ask why I have no children," he raised his eyes back up to her, "and  _that_  is why. Because of what really I am."

All of teasing in Brynn's face was gone; she looked looked heartsick. She reached out to him, stricken. "Loki, I –"

Sneering, he yanked his arm back before she could touch him and turned away, storming towards the staircase that would take him back below deck. 

He had not made it more than a few steps when Brynn bolted after him. Catching him around the waist with both of her arms, she dug in her heels and refused to let go, even though they both knew her strength was no match for his. 

Loki stiffened. He felt her hands move to his wrists and allowed her to turn him around, but kept his eyes fixed on the ground.

Brynn would not be deterred, however, and reached up and clasped his face in in her hands.

"Listen to me," she pleaded as he reluctantly lifted his gaze to hers. "You're wonderful," she told him earnestly, "and I would spend every day telling you that for the rest of your life if I could, because it's  _true_. I-I…"

She dropped her hands down and squeezed her eyes shut, a sign he had learned meant she was struggling to remember words. Finally she was able to dredge them out, and looked back up at him.

"I don't know what a Frost Giant is," Brynn said simply, "and I don't know what happened to you that makes you hate that part of yourself so much. And I wish I could undo all of it for you," her voice started quavering, "but the bad stuff is why you're  _you_ , and that's someone who – who is amazing, and sweet, and funny, and all the clichés in the world. Universe. Whatever."

Throat burning, and more moved by her words than he thought possible, Loki looked into her eyes and knew he had no hope of ever being the man she had just described.

"Would that all of that were true, Brynn Nolan," he rasped. 

Sadness flickered across her face when he told her this. Realizing she could not convince him otherwise, she tipped onto her toes and threw her arms around his neck in a fierce hug. She was tall enough to reach him without difficulty, but Loki wrapped her against him and lifted her up anyway. 

Hanging in his arms, Brynn tightened her grip on him and drew in so closely that her lips brushed his ear.    

"Only one of us is allowed to be the headcase, okay?" he heard her whisper.

Loki pressed his face into her hair and told himself the tears in his eyes were merely the result of the gusting wind.

"Okay," he whispered back.

* * *

The idea occurred to him so rapidly that Loki almost dropped his fork.

"Cards," he said.

Brynn looked up from the sesame bagel she had been balling up into pieces. Even with the assistance of the invisibility spell, neither of them had wanted to face the evening crowd in the mess hall, and so Loki crept into the kitchen and snatched up the first items he saw – chicken salad and bagels – and they had returned to his chamber to eat.

"Huh?"

He set his bowl down on the desk and looked at Brynn. "Where you grew up," he said. "Las Vegas. Surely you learned how to play cards there."

"Um, yeah." She sounded as though he had just asked her if Thor was still an idiot. "I know how to play everything." She tore off another piece of her bagel, scattering more sesame seeds over the floor. "I used to anyway," she added softly.

"Would you care to see if you're able to remember?" Loki asked hopefully.

"Sure," she admitted, although she still sounded a little uncertain. "But I don't even know where we could find a deck of cards in this place."

Loki offered her his hand. "Try to show me," he suggested, "like last time. I should be able to put something together."

Brynn set aside what was left of the bagel and walked over. He went to stand in order to give her the seat, but she took his hand, hopped on top of the desk instead, and waited expectantly.

Would he ever stop being surprised that she trusted him?

"Close your eyes," Loki quietly reminded her as he sat back down. She did. He closed his own eyes and cast the spell.

A onslaught of light and sound slammed into him. He was surrounded by an overload of stimuli, and as he fought to get his bearings, the brightly-colored chaos before him blended together to reveal the inside of a casino.

He saw row upon row of slot machines; flashing lights; people milling around in various states of dress, from formal wear to flip-flops and skimpily-dressed cocktail waitresses holding beverage-laden trays.

He saw clusters of green-felted card tables, dice, blackjack, poker and craps. He saw the high-roller section divided off with velvet ropes, and the smaller tables for the one-dollar wagers.

He heard the clamor of bells and music and electronic tones and chimes, going off in random intervals depending on the game and the value of the jackpot, all amid the rapid  _click-click-click-click-click_  of spinning roulette wheels.

Brynn had not just shown him a deck of cards, she was showing him  _everything._

Loki was drifting over to one of the blackjack tables now; a dealer in a black vest and bow tie stood at the center with an array of circular chips scattered before him, and – there. The cards.

The dealer shuffled the deck and then swept them out in an arc across the table, face-up. One glance was all Loki needed.

Three decks of playing cards popped into existence between their clasped hands, and the image of the casino faded away.

"Is that what it's really like there?" he asked as he drew his hand back. Brynn was looking down in surprise at the blue-and-white boxes of cards that now sat in her palm.

"That's not even a snapshot," she answered with a laugh. She drew her legs up to sit criss-cross on top of the desk and started peeling back the clear plastic wrapping on one of the boxes. "That was the Bellagio. Next time I'll show you Luxor.  _That_  place is where it really gets loony toons." She popped open the top of the box and drew out the deck.

"What shall we play?" Loki asked, reaching forward to help open the remaining two boxes.

"Blackjack was what I was best at," she squared up the cards and shuffled them so rapidly even Loki had trouble keeping track, "but it's not as much fun with just two people."

“Well, that’s easily solved.”

Loki neatly shelled the last deck out of its box and lobbed the cards into the air with a flourish. 

Brynn yelped as the cards transformed into a table, chips, and chairs. He flicked the empty card box off the desk next; it shot forward and split into three projections of himself, one in a black suit with a green silk tie, another in jeans and a green button-down shirt, and the last in his golden dress armor, minus the helm. The third duplicate made a show of sweeping his cape aside as he took a seat at the table.

Brynn dragged her eyes away from the trio of Lokis and back over to the original. "This is really fucking weird," she told him in a low voice, as if she was afraid the others might hear.

"But fun," he pointed out. Her amazement left him smiling from ear-to-ear. "And it's not running or reading. Come have a seat and teach us to play."

It was a pleasant surprise to them both how much Brynn remembered. She had no difficulty explaining the rules of blackjack, and demonstrated a few practice hands with ease. Loki was a fast learner and found that the game was not unlike other table games he had played in the past while visiting other realms.

From blackjack, they moved on to poker, which Loki found he preferred, but her frequent wins struck him as odd. He possessed a preternatural ability to count cards. How did she have the advantage?

"Are you cheating?" Loki finally exclaimed.

"No," Brynn said absently as she studied her hand. "Your tells are just obvious." Her eyes flicked up to his and she flashed him a sly smile. "Call."

Laughing, Loki tossed his cards down on the table - all low-numbered, non-suited cards - and admitted defeat. He had placed an outrageous bet, banking on being able to bluff his way into winning.

"You said I was a closed book to you," he accused as she slid yet another heaping pile of chips over to her side of the table.

Brynn playfully threw a five-hundred dollar chip at him, and burst into laughter when Loki transformed it into a small sHowe’s of tWendy-dollar bills.

"You're still a closed book," she admitted as the cash flitted down to the table and then disappeared, "but _not_ at cards."

"You realize I am known across the nine realms as the God of Lies," the third Loki haughtily informed her.

"And you wouldn't last a hot second when I'm from, Threepio," Brynn snapped back. They had been bickering all evening, she unable to stand his snobbery, and he equally unable to tolerate her cheek. "You gonna fold or do you want to keep embarrassing yourself? Because that's a shit hand and we both know it."

Loki Number Three laid his cards down with a huff and then petulantly crossed his arms over his armored chest. Preply Loki rolled his eyes and muttered, "Fool."

Brynn had just finished explaining the rules of Texas Hold'em to this bizarre audience when her watch beeped.

"Klonapin?" Loki asked without thinking. He was examining the cards she had laid out before them to demonstrate the flop, the turn, and the river.

"Are you trying to win a gold medal in stalking?" Brynn exclaimed.  _"I_  can't even remember all my medications and when I'm supposed to take them."

He looked up at her in surprise. "Does it bother you that I do remember?"

She silenced her watch and considered his question. "No," she decided. "It's not like you don't already know everything else about me. I'm drawing the line at my bra size, though."

 _Too late,_  Loki thought to himself as he judiciously kept his eyes fixed on the cards and not her shirt.

"I should go to bed anyway," she was saying.

"Probably not a bad idea," he agreed.

The three duplicates faded from sight, and Brynn started gathering up the playing cards to put them away.

"Stay with me tonight," Loki requested, watching her.

Brynn promptly dropped the cards. _"What?!"_ she squeaked.

"To  _sleep,"_ he sighed, exasperated. "Just…humor me."

"Oh. Okay." Looking relieved, she knelt down to the floor and continued collecting cards. "Your place or mine?"

"Mine, if you don't mind," he said. "The chamber is warded, and I would rather not take chances."

Brynn squinted up at him. "Is that why your door glows all the time?"

"Most likely."

She looked back down, restlessly opening and closing the flap of the card box. "Do you really think the scepter's going to come attack me in the night? Or  _you_?" She paused and then muttered, "Am I really even having this conversation?"

"I don't know," Loki told her honestly, shaking his head. "But if that were to happen, would you rather be alone upstairs, or with me here?"

"Here," she admitted.

The matter settled, Loki waved his hand over the table, which disappeared along with the additional chairs and stacks of poker chips.

"What do you need to fetch from your room?" he asked Brynn.

"Klonapin, obviously," she answered. She finished stuffing the remaining playing cards into the box and handed it back to Loki, who vanished it away along with the remaining two decks. "Toothbrush," she continued, standing back up. "And pajama pants, unless you're okay with me stealing one of your shirts."

"Oh, I think I'd  _quite_  enjoy that," Loki chuckled, shamelessly smirking up at Brynn from where he still sat in his chair.

A small yellow pill and a toothbrush popped into existence beside him on top of the desk – and no pajamas.

She threw him a dirty look, but Loki could tell she was trying to fight a smile, and grinned wickedly back at her.

"Two can play at that game, you know," she informed him.

"Indeed they can," Loki agreed, his eyes dancing with mischief now, "but the question is how  _far_  would you like to play the game?"

Brynn was about to fire back with one of her usual smart-aleck comments, but whatever she intended to say died in her throat, and she stood there staring at him as if seeing him for the first time. Her grey eyes focused on him with a piercing intensity, and as Loki looked back at her, he witnessed a subtle, permanent change in her that was impossible to describe but left him unable to breathe.

"I'd like to see it through to the end," she whispered, sounding surprised that she had even uttered the words, "but slow."

Loki's heart stuttered. He had been with too many women to not know Brynn was attracted to him, but he had never expected this.

As if caught in a trance, Brynn drifted towards him. He reached out for her, both of his hands settling on either side of her hips as she allowed him to bring her closer. He experimentally nudged her legs apart with one knee, and then drew her down to straddle his lap.

Wordlessly Loki traced the the line of her cheek with the backs of his fingers before leaning forward to press a lingering kiss to the hollow of her throat. Hearing her breath catch emboldened him, and he leaned back again, deftly sliding his other hand under her shirt. Taking his time, he smoothed his palm up along the curve of her waist before coming to a careful stop at the top of her rib cage.

He watched Brynn, transfixed, as she reached out and softly touched his mouth with her fingertips. That same faraway look came into her eyes, as if she were remembering making the same gesture except with someone else.

Wanting to bring her back to the present, Loki whispered her name. Brynn blinked; her eyes refocused, and he knew she was seeing him once more. 

He drew her towards him to kiss the bare skin below her collarbone, and then began ghosting his lips up the side of her neck, smiling faintly when he felt her breathing start to grow shallow. He leaned back to look up at her, not breaking eye contact as his free arm slid around the base of her hips and roughly hitched her all the way forward. Loki held her tightly in place, intentionally taking full advantage of the thin fabric of her running pants to convey his arousal -- and did some shallow breathing of his own when Brynn responded by grinding herself into him even closer and let her forehead come to rest against his.

Loki's thumb was just starting to explore the silky curve of her breast when he heard a soft, "I don't know what I'm doing."

He immediately drew back. Brynn was looking him with a broken expression of desire, tempered by fear, confusion, and grief.

Lust had left him thickheaded, and for a moment Loki considered continuing on with his unhurried game of seduction. He only had to look at her to know that he was one caress away from spending the rest of the night putting her through the sweetest kind of agony. Her cheeks were flushed, her pupils were so enlarged that her eyes were nearly black, and when he gave a deliberate upward thrust with his hips, she gasped and clutched forward.

It would be effortless to keep teasing her like this. Pushing her to the brink only to bring her back again, over and over, and willfully losing himself in the process until their only choice was to just give in.

But he wanted the hazy afterglow of lovemaking. Not the guilt he would feel knowing he had driven her body into making a decision that her mind might later come to regret.

As if he didn't already feel guilty enough.

Loki closed his eyes, took a shaky breath and forced his hand to slide back down from beneath her shirt.

"Slowly," he huskily agreed as he gazed back up at her.

Then he took another  _very_  deep breath, and reached up and playfully ruffled her hair. Brynn elbowed him in response, and the tension was broken - just as he had intended.

"Bed, _liten vannfe,"_ Loki told her firmly as he shooed her off his lap. Green plaid pajama bottoms appeared on the desk next to her toothbrush and medication.

"I don't want things to be weird," Brynn confessed as she went to pick up her medicine. "What just happened…that makes it weird."

Her cheeks still held a hint of that delicious pink, and Loki knew better than to go anywhere near her until his pulse had fallen back to an approximation of normal. Rather than risk a hug, he gave her a smile and stood up from the chair.

"What just happened gives me hope of one day - how did you put it? Seeing this through to the end. Have some faith, my love," he encouraged, echoing what he had said to her only that morning.

But this time she was awake to hear him say it, and the warmth that flooded into her eyes was all the reassurance Loki needed.

"Where are you going?" Brynn asked as he walked past her.

"To take a cold shower. Care to join me?"

"I  _told_  you," she called after him. "Now it's weird!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whatcha think? More sexyfuntimes or less? This is new territory for me with writing and I figured I might as well try my hand at it.
> 
> In case anyone is wondering, Brynn's new 'do is that semi-stacked asymmetrical style that you get if you put your hair in a ponytail and then cut it off at the base. Also in case anyone is wondering, I think Loki's hair looked stupid in Thor 2 (don't even get me started on that Ragnarok wig), so for the purposes of this fic, he went back to his only slightly less-ridiculous Avengers hair, and he's wearing variations of his wardrobe from Thor 1. I've never been good at writing detailed descriptions of characters' appearances and wardrobe, and given this is something I'm writing for fun, I'm going to just be lazy about it. He wears green a lot and she likes cargo pants. Done.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So much for a lazy morning in bed.

“I could get used to this," Loki remarked the following morning as he and Brynn were lying in bed together. They had just woken up, and he was amusing himself by playing with her hair. With the weight of it gone, her hair was just short of curly and had gone wild after a night's sleep.

"Not slow," Brynn told him. Her words were muffled from her face being half-pressed into his shoulder, but the warning tone in her voice was unmistakable.

"How is simply saying that I enjoy being with you not considered slow?" Loki exclaimed. He lifted up another wavy lock to see if he could make it stand on end.

"Because I said so. And stop turning my hair into a mop."

"But I  _like_  it," he said, laughing.

Brynn blindly reached up and started trying to slap his hand away. "You like me looking like a Muppet? Hey, that's my pillow!" she protested when he moved to sit up, taking his shoulder with him. 

Her complaining trailed off as Loki began to pull off his shirt.

"What is the matter?" he asked her, pausing midway.

"Put that back on," she said faintly.

"I'll do no such thing," he retorted as he peeled the rest of his shirt over his head. "You're a furnace."

His arms came free of the sleeves and he glanced back up to see Brynn openly gawking at him – or rather, his bare torso. Kicking himself for not thinking of employing this tactic earlier - Loki started to smile.

"I was next to you all night and you never said you were too warm," she was saying. She had nearly backed herself up against the wall to try and keep as much distance between them as possible without scrambling all the way down to the opposite end of the bed. "Put your shirt on!"

"Whatever for?" Loki innocently inquired.

"Because  _slow_ , that's why!" 

"Oh, don't be foolish," he sighed, crossing his arms over his chest and then fighting laughter as Brynn's eyes grew even wider. "I am perfectly capable of controlling my baser instincts."

"Who said I was worried about  _your_  instincts?" she screeched.

Loki gave her his most infuriating grin and then snaked out an arm, hauling Brynn back over and laughing out loud as she fell on top of him with a shriek.

"I promised you slow," he told her as she yanked herself away again. "I did not promise to play fair. Now will you lie back down, please? Or shall I remove the rest of my clothes as well?"

She glowered at him from where she sat crouched at the foot of the bed.

Loki cocked an eyebrow.

She flipped him off.

His hand drifted threateningly to the waistband of his pants.

Brynn threw him an outraged scowl and then grouchily flung herself back down on the bed beside him.

"Has anyone told you you're an incorrigible flirt?" she grumbled. 

"Many, many times," he chuckled as she wormed her way under his arm and reclaimed his shoulder. "Has anyone told you that you are incorrigibly lovely?"

"That's not even a thing and you know it."

Brynn had just started to drape her arm across Loki's waist when the tattoo on her inner wrist caught his eye. Curious, he grasped her hand and turned it over to study the five-symbol series of black lines and triangles.

"What do these mean, anyway?" he asked curiously, rubbing his thumb over the design. The tattoo was old enough that its edges had started to bleed.

"They're runes," Brynn answered, "at least they're supposed to be. The place we were at was really shady. I wouldn't be surprised if my roommate's tramp stamp actually says 'Burger King' in Chinese instead of 'Bright Courage,'" she added with a muttered snort.

"They  _are_  runes," he realized, only half-hearing her. He recognized them now that he had been able to see characters in greater detail. "Old Norse. They spell out Birdy." He frowned. "Who is Birdy?"

"Me. It was my dad's nickname for me."

Loki shifted to glance down at her and promptly forgot what he wanted to ask regarding her nickname. His expression softened. Despite Brynn's earlier complaints about him going without his shirt, she was the picture of contentment nestled against his bare chest.  

She looked as though she belonged there.

His breath caught, remembering how she had responded to his every touch the night before. The intoxicating call-and-response ended far too soon, but he would remember it for the rest of his days. The gentler he had handled her, the more she melted into him, and when he gave her a glimpse of what lay beyond his lingering touch, she had nearly come undone in his arms.

Now he knew she wanted him, and that alone made him all the more determined to show her  _his_  definition of slow - of  _slowly_  making love to her, of  _slowly_  bringing her to a spectacular finish, and then  _slowly_  doing it all over again until she was no longer capable of speech or rational thought.

Yes, he could do slow quite well - when it was on his terms, anyway.

It was about then that Loki noticed the blankets had tented rather suspiciously above his hips.

_Damn._

Gritting his teeth, he casually laid Brynn's arm back to rest against his chest, and then made a strategic adjustment to the covers to conceal what was rapidly turning into a ridiculous erection.

So much for being able to control his baser instincts. He could practically see Thor giving him a thumb's-up from the end of the bed.

At least Brynn's eyes were still closed.

He doggedly fixed his gaze on the ceiling and tried to recall what they had been discussing. "Why Birdy?"

"I'm not sure," she admitted. If she had noticed the awkward lapse in conversation, she showed no sign of it. "I never thought to ask him before he got sick, and things got so bad so fast that there wasn't time to think about anything else. But that's all he ever called me, and my mom only ever called me Breena. I didn't even realize my real name was Sabrina until I started school."

"You've never spoken of your mother before," Loki realized aloud. "Any particular reason?"

He felt her lashes brush his skin as she opened her eyes, and he stole a fast glance at the bedclothes. All clear.

"There's not a lot to talk about," Brynn's voice had grown melancholy. "She left when I was five, went back east for awhile. She still sends the obligatory Christmas and birthday cards, but I haven't seen her since Sammy and I got married. Giving me a pet name was just about the most motherly thing she ever did."

"I've never had a nickname," Loki mused. He intertwined his fingers with hers and studied their hands, pleased by how well they fit together. "My family was far too formal for such frivolities."

"Are you saying you don't like Doublemint?" she sweetly inquired.

"No, _liten vannfe,"_ he replied with a laugh. "Just 'Loki' is perfectly fine."

Brynn shifted, wanting to be able to see him more easily. "What's that mean?" she asked. "I forgot to ask when you said it last night."

Loki smiled back at her.  _"Liten vannfe?_ Little water fairy."

The hidden significance behind this pet name was not lost upon Brynn, and the playful light that had been in her eyes shifted to bittersweet as she continued to look up at him.

"My dad would have really liked you," she murmured.

The expression in Loki's eyes grew equally bittersweet. Then - not wanting the moment to become maudlin - he pressed a quick kiss to the inside of her wrist and laid her hand against his chest once more, enjoying the sensation of her fingertips as they drifted closed against his skin.

They both were only just settling in to enjoy a lazy morning in bed when Loki felt Brynn's fingers suddenly splay out flat.

She slid out from under his arm and sat up. "What's this from?"

Loki's hands involuntarily fisted the blankets. The alarm in her voice told him precisely to what she was referring -- the faint pattern of scars that blossomed from the center of his breastbone, a permanent souvenir from his skirmish with Kursed on Svartelheim. Magic had faded away the discoloration, but he had yet to find a spell that would remove the raised scar tissue.

"I was…stabbed," he said, watching her uneasily as she bent towards him to get a better look.

Brynn's eyes flew to his. "S _tabbed?"_  she cried.

Loki slid one hand up her back to try to get her to lie down again, but she pulled away and tugged his arm, wanting him to sit up. Grimacing, he pushed up from the bed and sat forward, shoulders slightly hunched so she could see the corresponding pattern of scars on his back.

"Loki," Brynn's voice had started to shake, "what happened to you?"

He turned to look at her over his shoulder, watching with interest as she glided her palm over the keloid scars. She was distraught - not from the disfigurement of his body, but that he had suffered such a grievous injury at all, as if she were envisioning the skirmish and feeling the pain he had experienced. Such a reaction made little sense to Loki, but he found it oddly gratifying.

Wanting to reassure her, he started to say, "I promise you, I am fine --"

"I know you're fine  _now_ ," Brynn interrupted. The shock was wearing off, and she would not be satisfied by attempts to placate her. "But please tell me this isn't something you do on the regular!"

"Certainly not," Loki replied, feelingly. Suddenly self-conscious, he began to search the bedclothes for his shirt. 

"How did you get stabbed?"

He continued digging through the blankets until Brynn stopped him and repeated her question. When their eyes met, Loki knew there would be no talking his way out of this.

"Fighting a Dark Elf."

Brynn drew back and her head dropped into her hands with a groan. He heard her muttering something into her palms, but as she let her hands fall back into her lap, the only words he was able to catch were,  _"Lord of the fucking rings."_

Loki reached out and gently lifted her chin with the tips of his fingers. "Brynn," he said as their eyes met, "why else do you think I carry knives?"

"You said it was standard training," she answered blankly. "I thought that meant it was just a really weird hobby."  

She sounded hopeful that this still might actually still be the case, and Loki could not help but chuckle at her Midgardian naivete.

"No, darling," he said with a smile. He moved his fingers from her chin to give her cheek an affectionate caress. "I am trained to use a wide variety of weapons."

Something that might have been comprehension dawned on her face. "Oh, you mean like guns?"

"All manner of firearms," he had leaned over to fetch his shirt, "as well as knives, daggers, swords - whatever weaponry our instructors could get their hands on. My brother and I were taught to use all of it."

Brynn was wearing a look not dissimilar to the expression that had preceded her dissolving into floods of tears when had he told her his age.

Loki sighed and raked a hand through his hair, trying to think. How to explain his upbringing as a warrior to her in a manner that would not make him seem even more foreign to her?

"Who taught you to use a shotgun?" he asked finally.

She plucked the shirt from his hands and started to play with the fabric. "My dad."

"And was using it a hobby of his? Did he hunt?"

Brynn shook her head. "No. He carried a Beretta when he was on duty at the casino, but the shotgun was my grandmother's. He wanted to make sure I knew how to use both of them, so he started taking me to the range with him when I turned thirteen."

"Exactly," he nodded, hoping he could build upon this commonality. "Standard training. And that training is especially true for royalty. The expectation is to have some facility with any weapon that one might encounter during battle."

She was staring at him again.

"What is it that you think I do all day?" he exclaimed in exasperation. "Sit on a throne and issue edicts to my subjects?"

"That's exactly what I thought you did," Brynn told him bluntly. 

Frustrated, Loki pushed himself back to the head of the bed and leaned against the wall, arms folded against his chest, long legs stretched out in front of him.

"I hate it when you look at me like that," he confessed.

"Like what?" she asked as she moved to sit beside him.

"As though I were an alien."

Her mouth quirked into a weary smile. "Sorry to tell you, Mork, but you kinda are." She leaned her head on his shoulder and added, "But you're cute. I think I'll keep you."

Loki's face lit up, hearing this, but Brynn's watch beeped before he could inquire further about her keeping him.

She silenced the alarm and sighed. "I need to get going."

"Why the rush?" he wanted to know as she started climbing over his legs to the other side of the bed.

"I need to go shower and change," Brynn explained. "Dr. Ives wanted to see me at ten."

" _No_ ," Loki said sharply. His voice was just short of a growl and she looked back at him, startled. This was a side of him she had never seen -- one that he had never intended her to see.

He began to disentangle himself from the blankets, taking his time as he went in order to try and reign in his temper. Not long ago he had stalwartly reminded Brynn that she was a grown woman and answered to no one, yet now he found himself wishing he could force her to obey. He knew her well enough to know she would cheerfully allow obstinance to overrule good judgement, but he was convinced the danger was too great to permit her to march off in a huff of righteous indignation.

"Do not go see her," Loki warned as he drew up next to her on the edge of the bed. "I'll let you dance on my head, parade around in my armor, whatever you please, but do  _not_  go see that infernal woman by yourself."

That belligerent look was creeping into Brynn's face, and Loki knew the window of time he had left to persuade her was rapidly closing. _Why_ was she reacting like this? Only two nights ago she was reassured when he said he would protect her; now she seemed nothing but resentful.

"You said you trusted me, yesterday," he reminded her. Growing a bit desperate, he reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear, hoping the tender gesture might earn him some goodwill. "I am asking you to please trust me again."

Brynn was wholly unmoved by his entreaty.

"Have you always been this paranoid?" she demanded. "Or is this some cute new habit you've picked up? Because I don't like it."

Gods, why wouldn't she just  _listen_?

The conversation was spiraling out of his grip. He needed to be gentle and understanding, to find a way to charm Brynn out of her irritation, distract her, something, _anything_  – but all he felt was anger at her unwillingness to trust his better judgment.

"Paranoid, no," Loki replied, his voice hardening, "only instinct, honed over centuries and battles and wars, the likes of which would leave you screaming in your sleep. I have learned to follow that instinct; the times when I have ignored it have brought nothing but ruin. And so I am telling you again,  _do not go see her."_

"Done?" Brynn asked him coolly when he had finished, and he knew he had failed.

She was, in a word, pissed.

"That  _infernal woman_  is the  _only_  reason I've been able to put myself back together," Brynn snapped as she reached down and seized her running shoes. "Yeah, she drives me crazy with her hovering," she shoved herself up from the bed, "and I am absolutely sick to death of therapy and all the ways she's tried to help me remember that day," she turned and glared down at Loki, "but  _she's_  why I'm not curled up into a ball wishing that I were dead, and  _she's_ why I'm not  _screaming in my sleep_  anymore."

Tears sprang into her eyes as she said this, and he flinched, realizing he had gone too far. Brynn may not have lived through battles and wars, but she had just as many reasons to scream in her sleep.

"So if you'll forgive me, your  _highness_ ," she shoved her feet into her sneakers, "I'm not going to ghost her just because of you and your dazzling gut instinct. Bye, Felicia."

Loki made no move to stop her as she stomped away and angrily grabbed her clothes from where she had left them on the desk the night before. She was halfway to the door when she stopped and turned halfway in order to look back at him.

"And don't forget, Doublemint," she warned, eyes glittering with rage and tears. "I'll know it if you try to follow me."

The door slammed shut behind her.

Loki shuddered and pressed both hands to his face, debating whether to go after her. Short of using magic to render Brynn unconscious – and he was alarmed enough that he seriously considered it, but he knew that she would unlikely ever trust him again – and that wrath he would incur afterwards would be of truly epic proportions – he knew his only choice for the time being was to do nothing.

But tonight...he would look for proof.


	18. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Hi. I despise how this chapter turned out, but I’m tired of being stuck in re-editing hell, so here it is in all it’s stupid glory. Meh. Also, possible trigger warnings for a nongraphic but vaguely sadistic medical procedure.
> 
> Also, I don't know why the chapter numbers are off, but I confirmed that they're posted in the right order.

Loki made his way upstairs to Brynn’s quarters not long after midnight, cloaked beneath his invisibility spell and prepared to go on the offense at a moment’s notice. The number of knives he held at the ready would have sent Brynn into an apoplectic fit, but he was taking no chances.

He stepped out of the elevator and into the empty corridor, mindful to keep his footsteps quiet. Although his spell concealed both form and sound, this scheme would be no more than a fool’s errand if Brynn was still awake. The odds were in his favor, at least; her last medication of the day functioned as both an anticonvulsant and sleep aid, and so long as the drug had performed as advertised, she would not sense him lurking in the hall.

He took an experimental stroll past her door once, then twice. When she did not storm out into the hallway, snarling, he concluded that she was asleep, and stationed himself at the far end of the corridor to wait.

Brynn emerged from her room thirty minutes later. Loki had been leaning with his back to the wall, arms across his chest and idly studying dust motes as they drifted through the air. He straightened the moment he spotted her, his hands easing down to his sides as he stepped out to watch her approach.

At first glance, Brynn gave every impression of being her usual self, other than perhaps looking a bit fatigued. She was dressed and appeared alert and oriented, but her expression was distinctly vacant. She was under the influence of some unknown entity, clearly, yet Loki did not sense the presence of the scepter, and neither did he sense any magic.

_Odd._

He remained rooted in place as Brynn came nearer, only his eyes tracking her as she passed by at an unhurried pace. She reached the end of the hallway and turned to the left; Loki spun on his heel and followed.

The Helicarrier operated on a continuous 24-hour schedule, and those on the nightshift did not seem to pay Brynn any mind, most of them already aware of her reputation for erratic behavior. Loki shadowed her every step of the way, trailing behind her as she traversed through corridor after corridor, up multiple levels and then down again, backtracking every so often to cover her trail.

This winding maze went on monotonously for more than an hour, and eventually his mind started to wander. She was wearing purple cargo pants, he observed, one of several items in her wardrobe that had fallen victim to his ministrations over the past two weeks. Perhaps her choice of clothing was not a coincidence, Loki mused; mayhap they were a sign that she had already forgiven him after their earlier spat.

He had grown so bored with their journey that he was debating the merits of altering Brynn’s hair color when she finally came to a halt in front of an unmarked metal door. She had led him into the middle of a service corridor; the door before them looked to be nothing more a supply closet, possibly storage, but the hidden wall panel that she pushed aside said otherwise.

Loki drew up behind Brynn to peer over her shoulder, watching intently as she reached into the small compartment that had been concealed behind the panel. A backlit keypad activated at her touch, and she began to punch in a lengthy multi-digit code – so lengthy, Loki grimly noted, that it was nigh impossible she had memorized it of her own volition.

Brynn finished inputting the sequence of digits and then took a half-step back; Loki retreated in tandem with her, scarcely avoiding her bumping up against him. She waited expectantly. Then came the click of a latch, and the door swung open. Light from the interior of the chamber spilled out into the hall, creating a sudden glare in the relative darkness of the corridor.

Brynn carefully settled the wall panel back into place, and after ensuring it was secure, stepped through the doorway and walked inside. Loki bolted after her, nimbly making it over the threshold just as the door swung shut behind them.

The room they had entered was large and dimly lit, the only source of illumination coming from an overhead fluorescent light mounted in the far corner. A rollaway hospital gurney sat nearby, and several carts stood adjacent, most of them bearing banks of unrecognizable medical equipment. Behind the gurney was a tall metal pole, from which hung a transparent plastic bag that was filled with clear fluid.

And there, standing before one of the carts with her back to the door, was Dr. Ives.

Every nerve in Loki’s body thrilled at the sight of her. Such a visceral reaction was total absurdity, of course. Nothing in this room, Ives included, posed any threat. She was the proverbial ant and his boot was as vast as Valhalla. Making quick work of the woman and her cadre of curious machinery would take but a thought.

Why, then, were his warrior’s instincts set to humming in the anticipation of battle?

“Over here, Brynn,” Ives glanced over her shoulder, “same as always.” She adjusted the knob on one of the devices and then leaned forward to calibrate a dial on another.

Loki hovered by the entryway as Brynn obediently walked the length of the room and climbed onto the gurney, which had been set at an incline to allow her to remain sitting up. She settled back, legs stretched out before her, and began to pull up one of her sleeves.

Ives stepped forward, holding a white plastic cuff that was connected to one of the machines. She wrapped the cuff snugly around Brynn’s upper arm; Loki heard the hiss of air as the cuff inflated, and two sets of numbers appeared on the machine’s display. A second cuff, hooked up to the same machine, was then wrapped around her ankle. This was followed by the doctor taping a glowing, bright-red monitor on the tip of Brynn’s left index finger, and then attaching two wireless sensors on her forehead.

There was an eerie sense of routine to the process, as though these steps had been repeated many times before.

After double-checking the placement of the sensors, Ives straightened and held out her hand to Brynn. “Ring?”

Loki’s brow furrowed as Brynn awkwardly twisted off her wedding band and dropped it into doctor’s waiting palm. Had he ever seen her without it?

“And the watch, too,” Ives prompted.

Loki felt another stab of uneasiness as the chunky turquoise sports watch was handed over and disappeared into the doctor’s pocket.

His eyes narrowed further when he saw what the Ives picked up next – a plastic package that contained an intravenous device of some sort. The purpose of the bag of fluids hanging from the metal pole became disturbingly obvious.

Ives tore off the package’s sterile covering and withdrew the coil of plastic tubing contained therein. She quickly unwound the tubing, uncapped the needle, and inserted the IV into Brynn’s wrist with a sure hand.

“Feel alright?” she asked, securing the catheter in place with a strip of adhesive.

Brynn gave an absent nod in response and continued to quietly on the bed. She was a veritable portrait of serenity, and Loki hated it. Where was the manic, restless energy he had come to know? Why was she so _still?_

Ives finished hooking the IV line up to the saline drip and tidily re-coiled the excess tubing. After confirming the drip was running properly, she turned away, reaching down to open a drawer in one of the carts that stood nearby. She lifted out a paper-lined metal tray that held three pre-filled syringes. She selected one and turned back to Brynn.

“Ready to start?”

Again, Brynn gave that same absent nod.

Blithely oblivious to the invisible god staring daggers at her from his spot in the corner, Ives uncapped the syringe with her teeth, twisted it into a port on the IV, and depressed the plunger. The effect of the drug was instantaneous. Brynn’s eyes glazed over and after a few heavy-lidded blinks, her lids fluttered shut and her body went slack.

Loki’s gaze took on a dangerous gleam, but he forced himself to watch and wait. Until he knew Brynn was truly in danger, the most logical choice was to do nothing _–_ not until he knew the endgame.

 _She’ll not harm her,_ he coolly reminded himself, only to be swiftly castigated by the other half of his internal monologue: _What sort of monster are you,_ it shouted, _allowing her to be the sacrificial lamb?_

Loki redirected his focus when he saw Ives wheeling over another machine. She pushed it into place by the bedside and started unwinding two long cables that were plugged into to the front of the device. Attached to the ends of each cable was a cylindrical handle, and at the bottom of each handle was an object that bore a vague resemblance a small, shallow rubber cup.

She set these aside and picked up a pair of blue latex gloves that had been lying on top of the machine, along with a transparent mouth guard. She snapped on the gloves, picked up the mouth guard, and carefully inserted it between Brynn’s upper and lower teeth.

It was then that Loki began to reconsider heeding that furious other half of his conscience.

He slid a throwing knife out from his tunic, chin canting low as he trained his eyes on Ives’s jugular. An ugly smile began to play about his mouth. Perhaps it was a good thing Brynn was unconscious; it would give him time to clean up the mess, should he decide to kill the doctor.

Ives activated the machine with the push of a button, and rows of red and green LEDs across its front came to life. Her movements grew hurried as she gathered up the cables before moving to stand behind Brynn at the top of the bed. She gripped each cable by its respective handle and held both at the ready – but ready for what?

One of the larger LEDs on the machine started flashing.

As Ives’s mouth began to move in a silent countdown, Loki could feel the air growing charged with electrical energy, and the sensation only continued to mount with every subsequent blink of the light. He tightened his grip on his weapon and waited.

The light flashed for the eighth time. Ives reached down and firmly pressed the cables, cup-side down, to Brynn’s head, one against her the center of her forehead, the other against her temple.

Loki traded the knife for his dagger.

A ninth flash. The hairs on the back of Loki’s neck were fairly standing on end by now.

On the tenth flash, the energy filling the air reached its peak, and Brynn’s arms jerked violently to her chest. Her face twisted into an unrecognizable grimace as every muscle in her body stiffened; at that moment, Loki came to the horrifying realization that the unfamiliar objects being pressed into her skull were electrodes.

He was at her side in an instant, but the die had been cast, leaving him caught between two impossible choices. He knew nothing of what was taking place, had no way of knowing if snatching her away amid this sadistic procedure might only inflict further harm.

Paralyzed, he stood vigil as the machine pumped a steady current of electricity into Brynn’s body. The helplessness he felt was all-too familiar, one of a countless number of agonies he had endured during his time in the Void. Thanos’s minion would have relished bringing to life just this sort of scenario – bending Loki’s reality, setting a scene in which he was forced to watch as his beloved was tortured before his eyes, all the while knowing not whether his deliberate inaction might spare her or end up killing her.

As the seconds clicked by, Loki’s thoughts turned towards his memories of the Void. He would not have survived, had he known Brynn before his time there. Watching the Other poison his love for her into putrid, fetid decay would have been his end.

But _had_ he known her, before…he would have never known the Other. He would have never let go, that day on the Bifrost. He would have held on. For her, he would have held on, in the hope that one day she might return his love, the Allfather and a lifetime of deception bedamned.

Oh, how differently the threads of his life might have been woven had he learned to love – _truly_ love – before Odin ripped the tapestry apart.

Brynn suddenly went limp on the bed, pulling Loki out of his desperate abstraction; the device had finally switched itself off. Her arms dropped bonelessly away from her chest and down to the mattress, rolling slightly outward and coming to rest at her sides.

As Ives went to check Brynn’s vital signs, Loki slowly released the breath he did not realize he had been holding. He had just started planning what step to take next when he absently noticed the feeling of warmth oozing from between his fingers. Confused, he glanced down; his hands were white-knuckled and clenched into fists, so tightly that the nails had drawn blood.

His skin stuck slightly to itself as he allowed his fingers to ease and uncurl, and he lifted his hands, turning them over to study the eight bloody half-moons that were embedded into each palm.

The impassive expression he wore shifted, and his eyes darkened. His gaze flicked upwards, settling on Brynn’s pristine hands where they lay, graceful and clean, against the white sheet of the gurney.

_Can you wipe out that much red?_

The taunt he had lobbed at Romanov that day on the Helicarrier echoed in his ears. Even if he did manage to eventually fulfill the terms of Odin’s bargain, his ledger would forever be a gushing river of red – but he could damn well save Brynn.

Stone-faced, Loki stoically scrubbed one hand down his tunic, then the other, and began to plot. Banner – he would bring her to Banner, he decided. Banner would be able to ascertain whatever damage might have taken place, and then he could take her to Asgard, to Eir – she would know what to do.

And then he would return to Midgard and kill Ives. Slowly.

The anger that had been building in Loki’s chest ignited at the delightful prospect of murdering the psychiatrist, and his eyes momentarily gleamed scarlet. The fury coursing throughout his veins began to burn white-hot, building into a blazing inferno of bloodlust.

This was a new experience, bloodlust. Save for his brief descent into madness, Loki had never been one to give in to blind rage. That was Thor’s domain, to descend upon the battlefield and go berserk without any consideration of the consequences, only conquest. But as he watched Ives calmly gathering up her equipment, Loki was beginning to appreciate the appeal of – as the saying went – losing one’s shit. If looks could kill, the doctor would have been vivisected on the spot.

As always, however, his good sense prevailed, and he kept his temper in check. Now that he was fully aware of Ives’s true intentions, it mattered little whether he chose to lodge a dagger in the woman’s skull on that day or any other. She would _never_ lay eyes on Brynn again, he would see to that.

His hands had just started to slide under Brynn’s neck and knees when her muscles locked up and she went into a full seizure. Wrath was abruptly replaced by fear; frantic, Loki looked straight to the doctor, searching for an explanation, but woman did not appear the _least_ bit surprised by the sight of Brynn spasming before her – no, she had _anticipated_ this.

The seizure was brief and lasted less than a minute. Loki was already reaching for Brynn once more when he saw that Ives had picked up the two remaining syringes; again, that damnably rational half of his brain commanded him, _Wait_.

Ives injected the contents of the first syringe into Brynn’s IV, followed by the second. The drugs rapidly entered her bloodstream and her eyes shot open a few seconds later. She flew forward, so fast that had it not been for the bed rail she would have tumbled to the floor, and began to look wildly about the room, gulping for air.

Loki went to shift out of her field of view, not wanting to risk the possibility of her seeing him, but changed his mind when he saw that Brynn’s disorientation was worsening. She was trying to speak but her words were too stuttered to be intelligible. Before Loki could respond, Ives quickly reached forward and gripped her shoulders with both hands.

“It’s me,” she assured her; Brynn settled somewhat under her touch and she managed to focus her eyes on the doctor, who gave her an encouraging smile. “You’re okay. How do you feel?”

Brynn’s mouth opened and closed a few times as she gaped at Ives and tried to process the question. “I-I-I’m okay,” she finally managed to stammer, echoing the doctor’s words.

The tone of her voice took Loki aback; he scarcely recognized it. High-pitched, vulnerable…childlike, almost.

“We don’t have much time,” Ives said as she released Brynn. That sense of urgency had returned to her, and her tone was clipped and hurried. “Let’s try to get through as many as we can, okay?”

“Okay,” Brynn repeated. She drew her legs up and moved to sit crisscross on the bed, one knee bouncing, fingers tapping on the steel bedrail.

Loki breathed an inward sigh of relief at the sight of her fidgeting. Assuming these ministrations had taken place before – and it was appearing increasingly likely that they had – he at least knew that she eventually came back to herself.

Ives brought forth a laptop computer and activated it before setting it onto the bed in front of Brynn. Behind her, Loki carefully moved to get a better view of the screen, mindful to not nudge any of the nearby equipment as he eased closer.

While the laptop booted up, Ives took out the watch and wedding band from where she had stuffed them into her pocket earlier. She set the watch for a ten-minute timer, re-strapped it around Brynn’s wrist, and then slid the ring back over her fourth finger. Brynn remained lost in a restless haze and seemed incapable of doing any of this herself; Loki felt as though he was watching Ives assist a small child.

The doctor returned her attention to the laptop. Fingers flying, she clicked through a few windows and opened an application that would record audio. She selected the button marked _Record_ ; once it was running, she set it to run in the background and then opened a second application.

An image of a bearded young man appeared on the screen. The photograph had been taken from the shoulders-up, but Loki recognized his clothing as a SHIELD uniform.

“Go ahead,” Ives prompted.

Brynn did not appear to have heard her and continued to stare blankly into space. Ives let a few seconds pass by before rousing her with a quick shake to her hand. She blinked, coming back around, and wearily focused her eyes on the laptop screen.

She stared at the image for a moment, and then whispered, “Blue.”

The picture of the man disappeared, replaced by another photograph, this time of a young woman with dark hair.

“Purple.”

More images of people appeared, flashing one-by-one in quick succession.

“Blue,” Brynn’s voice was a mumble, “orange…orange…green…red – really, really red –”

The word _red_ ended in a sharp cry; Loki flinched from where he stood behind Brynn as she balled up, collapsing onto her side and clutching her head.

“My head hurts,” she moaned in that same tiny voice.

Loki felt her pain knife throughout his skull as though it were his own. Instinct overrode logic, and he reached out, smoothing his third and fourth fingers down the back of her neck to trace an incantation over her skin. She leaned into his touch with a quiet gasp of relief, and her arms and legs slowly unknotted as Loki’s spell numbed the pain.

Ives stopped the recording and went to squeeze Brynn’s shoulder. “I know,” she said soothingly. “But you’re okay. Just a few more.”

Loki fixed the doctor with a glower that was pure poison. Death was too good for the woman, truly.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” Brynn was repeating to herself. She shoved her hair out of her face with both hands and shakily pushed herself back up to a seated position. Upright once more, she drew her legs to her chest and wrapped her arms around her knees, as though she were trying to make herself as small as possible.

Ives restarted the recording. As Brynn resumed pairing photographs with auras, the doctor briskly walked over to the opposite end of the room. A cart that Loki had not noticed previously stood in the corner, upon which sat a long silver case that was a little over a meter in length. Its size was hardly noteworthy but judging by the strain on Ives’s face as she pushed the cart towards the bed, its contents must have been of considerable weight.

Brynn was still mumbling colors when Dr. Ives pulled up alongside her, breathing hard from the exertion of hauling the case. She straightened, pausing to polish her glasses, and Loki surreptitiously fisted the mattress to stop himself from seizing her by the throat and telling her to get on with it. concentric

As if she had heard him, Dr. Ives re-donned her bifocals and reached for the case. An infrared scanner was built into its lid, and she pressed her hand flat against the glass. A red strip of light appeared and then pinpointed, moving in small circles as it carefully read the swirls and whorls in her palm and fingers.

The laser shifted from red to green, and bolts along the interior of the case released with a muffled _thud_. Her thumbs flicked open the silver clasps on the front, and she gripped the lid with both hands to heft it open.

_You’ve come to me at last, my king._

Instantly, Loki’s legs gave out. He dropped, barely managing to brace himself on his hands and knees to avoid smashing face-first into the floor. The interior of the case had been lined with a material that blocked the scepter’s power; the lid was scarcely open, but millimeters were all it needed to eke free.

Head hanging, Loki found himself struggling to remember why it was so vitally important that he continue fighting in the first place. His eyes had already clamped shut, but even behind his lids he could still see the splendorous blue light dancing towards him.

The draw was worse this time, far, far worse, and its presence lazily flooded every one of his senses until he saw, felt, tasted, smelled, and heard nothing but blue.

 _My king, my king, stop fighting,_ the scepter crooned. _You knew peace with me, once. I offer you that peace again. Rest._

Loki knew that his psyche would soon be lost and swept away with the tide, but amidst the heady scents of azure and lapis he caught the faint trace of –

Copper. Blood.

He wrenched his eyes open. He saw his hands, splayed flat on the gritty linoleum floor, and blinked dumbly at the reddish smears his fingers left in their wake.

A memory ghosted through his fractured mind, of the hands of another – smaller, the fingers on every nail torn to the quick, but no less delicate.  

 _Her_ hands, that always intertwined so perfectly with his own.

Loki’s eyes drifted closed. He began digging his nails into his palms as violently as he was capable, keeping his fists clenched long after blood started to squelch between his fingers.

He bit into his cheek next, so savagely that his teeth nearly cut straight through the skin. Blood crested into his mouth and washed over his tongue, mixing with saliva. The taste of its slick wetness, combined with the sight of his bleeding hands, helped to heighten the smell of copper and salt, and created something tangible, something that could guide him towards the eye of the hurricane that was the scepter – something to hold his mind fast, if only for just a few moments more.

He could do this. He had a reason to hold on.

Loki staggered up onto one knee, fighting back a moan as he braced a hand on his thigh and dragged his other leg forward.

_You are only prolonging that which you already know is meant to be –_

He bit into his other cheek, harder this time. Using the pain in his mouth and hands to gird what was left of his soul, he slowly pushed himself back up to his feet and reopened his eyes.

He immediately regretted it; the sight of the scepter brought on yet another onslaught of near-insanity. Ives had placed the scepter across Brynn’s lap, and was positioning her left hand so it lay resting over the blue gem.

As Loki valiantly continued to stave off temptation, Ives reached over and pressed another key on the laptop. The photographs started whizzing across the screen. Brynn’s rate of speech sped up to the point her words were nearly unintelligible, but the recording device captured every aura she identified, to be synced up with the photographs at a later time.

Meanwhile, the relentless cacophony in Loki’s mind only grew louder:

_Take her and run! – Seize the scepter and fetch the Tesseract! – SURRENDER – Mother, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry – Satisfaction is not in your nature; **fight** , damn you, fight…_

_…but I am so tired of fighting._

The scepter: _I know, my king._

His foot inched forward.

_Just a little further, my king. After all, is this not simpler? Is this not your natural state?_

He went to take another step, but a pair of unnaturally-blue eyes met his and stopped him dead in his tracks. The din in his head fell momentarily silent, and then came the faintest of voices:

_Loki?_

And with the sound of his name, spoken by her, he was able to step back from the brink and claw his way out of the abyss.

He bolted for the exit, flinging a burst of magic at the door just in time to rearrange its molecules before rushing right through, and awkwardly skidded into the corridor.

He broke out into a sprint. Adrenaline made him fast, but clumsy, and he tripped more than once as he tore through the hallways, running blindly in whatever direction seemed like ‘away.’  

The scepter faded from his consciousness the longer he ran, until his mind was finally his own again – presumably when Dr. Ives placed it back in the container after realizing she and Brynn had not been alone in the room.

Loki did not stop running until he reached the door to his chambers. He stumbled inside, walked a few steps, and then fell straight onto the floor, panting heavily.

 _Too close,_ he thought to himself, his mind still reeling.

He knew not what phenomenon had just taken place – there was no explanation for it. Brynn was no telepath, yet somehow even under the thrall of the scepter, she had sensed his distress and called out to him.

He closed his eyes and tried to catch his breath. He was soaked in sweat, and his forehead felt slick from where it pressed into the cool tiled floor. Wincing, he rolled over onto his back, and winced a second time at the resulting ache in his both of his cheeks. He reached up, touching his thumb and forefinger to either side of his face; his fingertips glowed green, and the tissues in his cheeks reknit and healed themselves.

After taking a few minutes to reclaim some semblance of calm, Loki grimly rose back to his feet and returned to the hallway. Brynn did not keep him waiting long; as soon as he spotted her wobbling towards him, he went to meet her, scooping her up and carrying her the rest of the way back to his chamber.

Her eyes were open, but still blue, and her mind was adrift. Loki stubbornly set about trying to reach her with his voice, his touch – pressing his lips to her forehead, calling her name, reassuring her that he was with her and would keep her safe.

He was just starting to lower her onto the bed when the scepter’s presence slammed into his mind, reappearing with such violence that it may as well have been a physical blow to the head.

_It will be time, soon. Why are you continuing to resist, my king?_

Loki did not attempt a response. Words would cost him too much. He sat back on his heels, Brynn still cradled in his arms, and braced for the onslaught.

 _The path laid out before us is clear; your destiny beckons. Seize me, fetch the Tesseract from Asgard, and let us conquer the Nine Realms together. Oh, my king, the possibilities are endless! But,_ the scepter’s voice grew sly, _let us first kill the Other. And let us punish him first, for how he so egregiously punished you…_

Kill the Other?

Loki’s eyes widened. Suddenly he could _see_ it. Suddenly he _wanted_ it.

The sensation of the Other’s skull splintering beneath his fingers. Oh, how _sweet_ it would be, watching the brain matter ooze from the creature’s eye sockets, shiny and viscous and pink. Ripping the still-warm corpse apart, savoring every tear of sinew and tendon, until all that remained of that vile being was but a heap of pulp, lying dead at his feet –

The weight in Loki’s arms twitched, interrupting his sadistic fantasy. He looked down, face twisting with revulsion with what he saw what he held.

It was the mortal. How disgusting.

He shifted, drawing an arm out from under the woman so she lay half-across his lap while keeping her upper body supported in the curve of his other arm. She was only but so unpleasant to look at, and he greedily watched the throb of her pulse beneath her skin. Unable to resist the inexplicable compulsion to touch her, he reached forward and gently draped his hand over the curve of her neck and shoulder, his thumb coming to rest in the hollow of her throat.

His mouth curved into an ugly smile.

 _Start with her,_ the scepter suggested _._

“You told me she was useless, before,” Loki whispered.

_And useless she remains. But it only takes one supplicant to start an army._

Brynn’s seizure was what saved him. Same as last time, the scepter fled, and Loki’s mind cleared.

Shuddering, he managed to get her onto the bed, and wearily knelt on the floor at her side as he waited for the convulsions to stop. This was all starting to feel far too familiar.

The seizure ended. Brynn woke up disoriented, and this time she did vomit. Loki patiently held back her hair as she retched, and then vanished the sick away from the floor and her clothes once she stopped heaving.

Such a sight would have once repulsed him. Now all he felt was gratitude that she had not mistaken him for Sammy when she regained consciousness.

He tucked her in bed, told her that she had not thrown up when she asked, and held her tightly for the remainder of the night, lying awake in the dark and seething with unadulterated, realm-splitting rage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I’m baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack. Thank you to everyone who commented/kudo'd!
> 
> For those of you wondering why Loki just didn’t teleport his ass when the scepter showed up – I don’t think he can teleport, at least based on how he’s written in the MCU. Illusions are involved in every instance in the films where he seemingly is in one place and then another (ex: In Thor when he backs up against the cliff while fighting the Frost Giants on Jotenheim, in the Avengers where he traps Thor in the Hulk’s cage, and then goes to kill Couslon). My guess is that he’s coupling invisibility, speed and illusions, rather than teleportation. Anyway, that’s my theory and I’m sticking to it.
> 
> Also, FYI/PSA: I am flying by the seat of my pants regarding ECT, TBIs and seizure disorders. There are a wealth of inaccuracies in how ECT is actually performed versus how it’s depicted in this chapter. 
> 
> Chapter 19 won’t be up until after New Year’s. It’s about 75% written but it’ll take me awhile to complete it and then edit it into oblivion.
> 
> Thanks, as always, for reading! (And you know I'm a whore for feedback, so shameless hints for reviews here...)


	19. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki, Bruce, and Tony have a meeting of the minds. No one is happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all, I did my best with the Stark-snark...

Brynn was still deeply asleep as Loki readied for his meeting with Stark and Banner the following day. He himself had slept fitfully, plagued by dreams that he could not recall upon awakening and left him feeling muddled when he finally rose from the bed.

He now stood in the doorway of the washroom, still wet from his shower and warily eyeing the coffeepot, wondering if the unopened bag of 'Pike Place' that Brynn was always going on about might have a prayer of waking him up.

Unlikely.

He waved his hand with a sigh and conjured a full-length mirror. Framed in gilded black, it not only served the traditional purpose but also transported along with it his traveling wardrobe and other personal effects. Behind his reflection hung tidy rows of clothing; angling his stance to the left revealed an over-stuffed bookcase, and to the right, various sets of armor that he had amassed over the years.

He sartorial taste had always been a point of pride, but since Odin's death, Loki had been limited to the Allfather's trademark flowing robes and livery colors. Since arriving on the Helicarrier, he had taken advantage of the opportunity to wear his own clothes but had been forgoing his leathers in favor of more everyday wear, primarily tunics, woven shirts and breeches.

Today, however…

Loki took an appraising view of himself and the metal-trimmed vest, black shirt, and broadcloth breeches he had selected. He frowned. Golden beams of light washed over his form from head-to-toe, leaving behind it the calf-length coat and casual armor he had worn during his encounter with the Avengers. After some brief consideration, he opted to go without the bronze shoulder plate, and swapped his metal vambraces out for ones constructed of leather. The overall effect was still intimidating, but a little less battle-ready.

He knew he needed to approach this meeting with Banner and Stark in the spirit of open-mindedness and collaboration…but he also wanted to make it very much apparent that he had not been cowed into complacency, even in spite of his recent model behavior.

Satisfied, he vanished the mirror away and went to sit on the bed to put on his boots, which he had neglected to put up the night before. He had just started pulling them on when he felt a tug at his sleeve and turned, surprised to see that Brynn was awake.

"Where are you going?" she asked. Her voice was creaky, but she sounded like herself again.

"Just for a walk," Loki answered softly as she slipped her hand into his. He squeezed her fingers and gave her a smile. "Try to go back to sleep. I shan't be long."

Exhausted grey eyes looked back into his. "It happened again, didn't it." It wasn't a question.

Loki's smile faltered. If only he could lull her back to sleep with false reassurances.

Sighing, he reached over and smoothed his hand over her hair, trying to tame the riot of sleep-mussed waves. "Yes," was all he knew to say.

Brynn closed her eyes as she resignedly processed this information. Then, wanting a hug, she tugged his hand again and pulled him down towards her.

"De - don't fret," he insisted as her arms slid around his neck, barely catching the  _Dear heart_  that had nearly escaped his lips.

Gods. What was  _wrong_  with him? Where were these saccharine, sentimental endearments coming from? And to think he had once accused Thor of going soft.

He went to pull away, but Brynn was unusually clingy and kept hold of him. Surrounded by her warmth, Loki swallowed hard, finding it difficult to resist the urge to press closer and nuzzle the curve of her neck.

"You smell like peppermint," she mumbled. She must have caught on to the still-lingering scent from his earlier magic.

_And you smell like Valhalla._

"Try not to worry. All will be well, I promise you," he told her, only just able keep the huskiness out of his voice.

He felt Brynn smile against his cheek. "Have faith?"

Hearing his own words quoted back to him drew a quiet a laugh. "Precisely."

Her arms relaxed from around his neck and he leaned back, straightening. Their eyes met. Something in his face had her entranced, and Loki's gaze involuntarily fell to her mouth as her lips parted.

Her lower lip was raw from where she must have been tearing at it in her sleep, and he reached out a hand to slowly trace his thumb across the ravaged skin. It healed beneath his touch, and his breath quickened when he saw her tongue briefly peek out to feel her newly-healed lips.

"Thanks," she whispered. She seemed unable to look away from him, and as Loki waited to see what she might do next, that delicious rosy flush began to infuse her cheeks.

But her fears won out yet again. He softly said her name and she panicked, bolting onto her side and burying herself back under the blankets.

Loki sighed inwardly, crossing his arms and lifting a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. This would drive him mad, before long.

Frustrated as he was, however…

He glanced over and gave Brynn a nudge with his elbow. "In need of a cold shower, are we?"

A growled, "Bite me," came from somewhere under the pillow.

"Just say the word, darling," Loki chuckled, bursting into outright laughter when she tried to kick him.

Grinning, he finished pulling on his boots and stood up to leave.

"Hey, can you bring me some juice on your way back?" Brynn requested, poking her head out from beneath the bedclothes. Her hair was wild with static, and she looked a little more alert.

"As my lady wishes."

Brynn wrinkled her nose at such formality and proceeded to pull a face at him when he gave her a cocky wink in reply. Then she squinted and sat straight up in bed.

"Loki. What the fuck are you wearing?"

He froze. His leathers would not have afforded him a second look on Asgard, but they stood in stark contrast to what she had come to know as his everyday clothing.

"I like it," Brynn finally decided when she had finished scrutinizing him. "Really weird to wear for just a walk, though… _Your Highness._ "

She shot Loki a meaningful look and hunkered back beneath the covers.

He smirked, blinked out of sight, and departed.

* * *

Loki made no haste to Banner's laboratory, which was on the opposite end of the Helicarrier. To say he was dreading this meeting was an understatement of Hulk-sized proportions. Banner, he could tolerate. Stark, however…

 _Now would be a marvelous time to be worthy,_ he thought darkly as he indulged himself in a fantasy of hitting the metal man upside the head with Mjolnir _._

Fifteen minutes later – having stopped by the cafeteria to fetch Brynn's juice - Loki grimly stood before the laboratory's entrance. He arranged his face in a neutral expression, and then, steeling himself, reached for the keypad on the wall and entered the passcode Banner had provided him.

The large glass double doors slid apart, and he stepped inside.

Stark had already arrived, and he and Banner stood at the far end of the room along a large bank of computer screens. The former was his usual obnoxious self, sporting his beloved tinted glasses and a faded black T-shirt with the words  _Judas Priest_  printed across the front. He was chatting animatedly with Banner, who listened in amusement as Stark boasted about his latest achievement.

Both men looked up the instant Loki walked through the door, and their conversation came to a standstill as he made his approach.

Stark was the one to finally break the silence, greeting Loki with a flippant, "Good to see you, Bullwinkle."

"Likewise," Loki lightly replied. He came to stand before them, keeping his stance wide, but relaxed. "Dr. Banner," he added with a courteous nod to the scientist.

Loki could tell the man's loyalties were divided – torn between aligning himself with Stark or trusting his burgeoning acceptance of the fact Loki had been telling the truth and had no plans of subjugation. He did not seem certain of how to respond, and so went with a noncommittal nod of his own in return.

"Thanks for tattooing my landing pad, by the way," Stark added cheerfully as an aside. He swept off his glasses and tucked them into a pocket. "It's not every day I have to replace the roof."

Loki bit back a smirk. He had forgotten about the sigil he had left atop Stark's architectural tribute to himself. 

Stark appeared to be waiting for some sort of a reply from Loki. A number of retorts were, in fact, poised on the tip of Loki's tongue, but he had promised himself he would refrain from engaging the arrogant fool in verbal combat. He was petty enough, however, to draw himself up to his full height, which left him looming over both men.

"Bruce said you're all hung up on some theory about Dr. Ives being a baddie," Stark finally continued, showing no sign of being bothered by Loki's posturing, "And because I'm just  _such_  a generous guy, I thought I'd drop by and hear you out." He picked up a stylus that was sitting out on a nearby stack of papers and began fiddling with it.

"How magnanimous of you," Loki drawled with a humorless smile.

"Yeah, I know," Stark grinned over at Banner and then back to Loki, looking enormously pleased with himself, "I really am. So," he lightly bounced the stylus on top of the desk, "whatcha got?"

The man's demeanor was as nonchalant as ever, as though their last conversation had not concluded with Loki throwing him through a window, and Stark returning the favor by blasting Loki in the chest with his pulse cannon. To any bystander, his easygoing banter would have suggested they were nothing more than cordially-acquainted rivals.

On the other hand, Loki had already taken notice of the narrow silver cuffs Stark wore around his wrists; he, too, had come dressed for the occasion, prepared to unleash his armor at a moment's notice. 

Loki’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "What has Dr. Banner told you thus far?" He inquired.

"Just the Cliffs Notes version," Stark shrugged, "That Brynn's showed up twice on your doorstep in the middle of the night and that it's got something to do with your old friend, the Glowstick of Destiny. Sure as hell beats me why she's sleepwalking to your place, but she's technically brain damaged, so, you know…" He shrugged again, giving Loki a knowing smirk that screamed,  _There's no accounting for taste._

"Correct," Loki said shortly, not taking the bait. "The closest description I can come to is a form of possession. Both times the scepter has attempted to communicate to me through her –"

" _Communicate?"_ Stark interrupted. The stylus came to a halt. "What kind of communicate? As in, 'Hey, it's been awhile, let's go catch up over some falafel?' Or as in, 'Let's try to take over Earth again because it just wasn't fun enough last time?'"

"The latter," Loki grudgingly acknowledged. "Its attempts, however, have been unsuccessful."

"Not reassuring," Stark shot back. "Seriously, Maleficent, what're we dealing with here? 'Cause, sorry, pal," he impatiently tossed the stylus aside, "but it's gonna take more than a month of good behavior to convince me you're the gold-star former ex-villain of the week."

Banner, who had been keeping silent during this entire exchange, decided to speak up. "Tony – just…hear him out, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah…" Stark muttered. He dug a small pouch from his pocket and tore it open, shaking out a handful of dried fruit into his palm, and tossed them into his mouth. "Fine," he said around a mouthful of acai berries, "Glowstick's channeling its inner exorcist and possessing everyone's favorite ex-social worker. Go."

He motioned for Loki to keep talking, but then absently glanced over at Banner. "Want any?" He offered him the packet of fruit.

"No, I'm good," Banner declined.

Stark turned and boldly offered the packet to Loki. "Rudolph?"

Loki raised an eyebrow.

"C'mon," Stark goaded, "even the gods need antioxidants. Thor loves this stuff. Oh wait," he paused, feigning a sudden realization, "you probably prefer human sacrifice. Non-GMO, right? Or organic?"

Loki smiled thinly. "Are you volunteering, Stark?"

He snorted and shook his head. "May the odds be ever  _not_  in your favor, Hellboy. Anyway," he shook out another handful of berries, "keep going."

"I am uncertain how it is happening," Loki continued as Stark munched on his snack. "The scepter was in constant communication with my mind during the time it was entrusted to me, but otherwise gave no signs it was capable of acting under its own power. Dr. Banner indicated that you believe it has a consciousness?”

"Yeah," Tony nodded, "I got drunk one night and ran an EEG on it."

"Are you ever  _not_  incapable of taking a situation seriously?" Loki sniffed; less than five minutes in and he was already fed up with this parley, so much that he was resorting to double negatives.

"I'm sorry, have you  _met_  me?" Stark exclaimed. The food seemed to be helping him get over his ire, and he appeared in good spirits again. "But, yeah, that's what happened. I mean, it makes sense, right?" He popped the last of the berries into his mouth, "The scepter took over peoples' minds. So, I hooked the stupid thing up to an EEG and it showed brain waves. What I don't understand, though," he crumpled up the now-empty snack packet and tossed it into the nearby waste basket, "is why you think Dr. Ives is behind all of this."

Loki's countenance suddenly took on a mask of barely-contained rage. The expression was all-too familiar to Banner and Stark, and both men glanced at one another uneasily. Unlike their previous run-ins, however, the clarity returned to Loki's eyes, and his expression grew calm once more.

"I  _know_  she is behind this," he answered flatly. "I followed Ms. Nolan last night to a deserted wing in this vessel. Ives proceeded to drug her and forced her undergo a medical procedure that could have killed her. Ives is not only dangerous, she is using Ms. Nolan – to what end, I know not, but if the woman is permitted to continue unchecked, the damage to your charge may be permanent."

Any trace of humor in Stark's face had gradually faded away as Loki shared this information, leaving him concerned, but no less suspicious.

"Maybe you better start at the beginning," Banner suggested finally.

Loki began to relay the previous night's events, providing them with a play-by-play description of what had taken place in that hovel of a room in the bowels of the Helicarrier. As he started to describe the device that Ives had used during the procedure, Loki saw Banner and Stark exchange a look, and he paused in his narration.

Banner realized that Loki was waiting for an explanation. "What you're describing sounds like ECT," he said, "Electroconvulsive shock therapy."

"Inducing seizures is considered  _therapeutic_  in your realm?" Loki asked incredulously.

"It's hard to explain –"

"Then I suggest you make an attempt," Loki snapped, "as what I witnessed last night was barbaric."

"ECT used to be barbaric," Banner admitted, "but –"

"Skip the history lesson," Stark was growing impatient, "what happened after that?"

"Ives administered another drug that caused her to regain consciousness," Loki's jaw clenched, remembering, and then he continued, "She was extremely disoriented upon awakening. Once Ives had calmed her, she brought forth a laptop that displayed a series of personnel photographs, and recorded Brynn's voice as she identified each aura."

_My head hurts._

Brynn's agonized cry echoed in Loki's mind and his voice trailed off.

"What happened after Dr. Ives had Sabrina start identifying auras?" Banner prompted.

Loki blinked, coming out of his reverie, and resumed telling the story. "She wheeled over a case that contained the scepter—"

"Not buying it," Stark declared at the same time as Banner cried,  _"What!_ How did she get access to it?!"

Loki's brows raised in mild amusement. "And to think I was hoping either of you might be able to answer that very question."

"Either cut the crap and keep talking," Stark said hotly.

"She placed the staff in Brynn's lap," he said, forgetting to use the more detached  _Ms. Nolan_ , "And then…"

"And then what?" Banner pressed when Loki suddenly stopped short.

"And then I was forced to leave," he gritted bitterly, loathe to admit this fact to himself, let alone state it aloud.

"What, like you needed a potty break?" Stark exclaimed. Whether he believed Loki or not, he still looked appalled. "Why didn't you get her the hell out of there?"

"Because the scepter was trying to control me," Loki was unable to curb the snarl from his voice, but he was furious with himself that he had lacked the strength to do precisely that, to  _get her the hell out of there_ , and Stark's accusatory expression only compounded his guilt. "I had no choice  _but_  to leave!"

"I bet  _Thor_  would've stuck around –"

"Okay,  _okay_ ," Banner interrupted, raising his voice. The god's eyes had flown straight to Tony's arc reactor at the mention of his brother, as if he were about to fulfill a long-held wish of obliterating the device right in his chest.

Again, however, Loki was able to temper his rage. Banner could still see traces of the ranting, egomaniacal madman he remembered from recordings of the Hulk flinging him about like a ragdoll, but that madman's anger was now well-contained.

"Brynn came to me an hour later," Loki continued, "The scepter had merged with her mind and attempted to turn me, just as before."

"Did she have another seizure?" Banner asked.

Loki nodded. Anticipating the next question, he went on to add, "Convulsions. The pattern seems consistent, which leads me to believe these procedures have been going on for some time. Certainly before my involvement, anyway."

Silence fell.

"This is one hell of a story," Stark finally remarked, crossing his arms over his chest. "Got any proof?"

Loki looked at them both and spread his hands in a hapless gesture. "None whatsoever."

Stark studied him, hard. He had gone into this conversation anticipating Loki would provide them with a multitude of evidence – all lies upon lies, of course – to convince them of the veracity of his story. The bald honesty in his reply, however, had taken him quite by surprise.

Banner toyed with his glasses, thinking all of this over. "Where's she now?"

"Asleep," Loki inclined his head towards the door, "in my chambers."

" _Your_  room?" Stark asked sharply.

"Yes," he answered, growing defensive. "I saw no merit in moving her and risk waking her up again." He changed the subject before Stark could question him further. "Dr. Banner, in what manner has Ms. Nolan been assisting you with this project? I trust that it is a far cry than what took place last night, yes?"

"It's voluntary," Banner answered, now sounding a little defensive himself, "All of it. Right now the participant pool is restricted to anyone within SHIELD, but the plan is to eventually broaden the search and try to find more potential inhumans – anyone who shows signs of having Seidr."

Loki concealed a sneer but continued listening.

"We figured out about six months ago that Sabrina didn't need to see someone face-to-face to see their aura," he continued, "she could tell just by looking at a photo. She started helping us build a database, trying to figure out if there was a pattern between the latent Seidr and the type of aura."

"And the scepter?" Loki pressed.

"Proximity was a factor," Banner said readily, "just like I told you the other night. But she never came into contact with it, and she was conscious the entire time, nothing like what you were talking about. And we had to use actual photos – putting her in front of a screen just ended up causing breakthrough seizures."

"Learned that the hard way," Stark muttered under his breath. He had started in on another pouch of dried fruit, blueberries this time.

"If she could identify five, six auras an hour, then that was a good day," Banner continued. "And all the scepter seemed to do was amplify what she already could do. Plus, we had her hooked up to an EEG as a precaution – "

"My idea," Stark interrupted, popping a blueberry into his mouth. He again offered the snack to Loki and smirked. "Change your mind?  _Shit!"_

He bellowed this last part as masses of tiny blue cockroaches suddenly started flooding over his hand and arm.

Loki serenely turned his attention back to Banner. "You were saying, doctor?"

Banner did not immediately answer, watching in silence as Stark danced about, futilely trying to fling off the onslaught of insects.

Finally he cast a sidelong glance in Loki's direction. "Weren't you just complaining about not taking things seriously?" He was wearing the distinct expression of someone who had been dealing two squabbling children for the better part of an hour.

Loki was suddenly reminded of his mother. 

Shrugging, he snapped his fingers.

The blueberries flew back en masse towards one another, coming together to form a small funnel cloud that gracefully swirled back into the discarded silver packaging, which then re-sealed itself and floated its way to Stark, finally coming to a halt in front of his nose.

Not missing a beat, Stark plucked it out of the air, tossed it into the wastebasket where it joined its previously-discarded compatriot, and once more dug a hand into his apparently-bottomless jeans pocket.

"Five-second rule," he informed Loki as he yanked out a pouch of sunflower seeds and tore it open.

"You guys done with the pissing contest?" Banner fixed them both with a deliberate look.

"No," Stark answered thickly, chewing with his mouth full.

Banner's resemblance to Frigga was starting to grow eerie.

"What I was _saying_ is," the doctor doggedly continued, "we were monitoring Sabrina constantly for seizure activity. The EEG never threw so much as a blip."

Silence fell once more as they mulled over their pooled knowledge, the only sound in the room coming from the hum of the surrounding computer equipment.

"Tony…what do you think?" Banner finally asked Stark.

He wasn't listening. Sub-zero opinion of Loki aside, his brain could not resist the prospect of a challenge and was already wholly engrossed in exploring every possible option of what steps to take next, be they impossible, improbable, or both.

Loki had not thought him capable of such intense concentration. Wonders, it seemed, would truly never cease.

Stark absently set his sunflower seeds down on the desk. "Power load," he muttered.

His colleague did not seem to follow. "What do you mean?"

"Power load," Stark repeated, still half-speaking to himself as the idea continued to form in his mind. "ECT is going to draw more amperage than, say, a nightlight."

Loki watched curiously as Stark strode over to Banner's desk, drawing forth a tiny silver circle from his rear pocket and affixing it to the large CPU that was stationed beneath the adjacent table. He pulled the keyboard towards him and began typing.

"Infiltrating?" Banner dryly remarked as Stark proceeded to hack into SHIELD's operating system.

"I like to think of it as providing malevolent quality control," he replied airily. "How long did it take me to get into their system last time?" He glanced at Banner, trying to remember. "Less than a minute? Bet I can do it half as fast this time."

Loki flashed Stark his wickedest smile. "Ooh," he mocked, "Performance issues, Stark? One in five, did you say?"

"Watch it, Moosejaw," he retorted without glancing away from the computer, "I still have a Hulk, and you don't."

This exchange was lost on Banner, but Stark had successfully accessed SHIELD's mainframe before he could inquire further.

"Okay, here we go…"

From his other rear pocket, he pulled out an object that resembled a transparent mobile phone. He tapped its screen; the displays of all six of the flat-screen monitors connected to the CPU were seemingly flung into the air before them, enlarged many times over to create a series of glowing virtual screens.

It was a morass of information; schematics, maps, database after database, personnel files – the list was seemingly endless, all hanging in the air for their purview. Stark appeared to know what they were searching for and quickly discarded visuals of anything irrelevant with a sweep of his hand; as he worked, Loki walked over to stand behind Banner and Stark to get a closer look.

A few more swipes of data later, a large, three-dimensional schematic of the Helicarrier came to surround them. Beside it ran a scrolling series of numbers that displayed 24-hours' worth of power logs across the entire ship, with corresponding locations.

"Hey, Ludo, what time did you say this happened?"

Loki refrained from rolling his eyes at yet another nickname; along with the contents of his pockets, Stark seemed to be in possession of an endless supply. "Between one and two o'clock this morning, approximately."

Bruce suddenly leaned forward around Stark's shoulder, having spotted something of import. "There." He reached out an arm and pointed to one of the lines on the power log.

Stark enlarged the section Banner indicated, revealing a detailed map of the 30th level of the Helicarrier. Loki immediately recognized the hallway depicted before them as the location of Ives's lair.

"That's a spike," Banner was saying, "not a lot, but the duration fits right – the amperage increases and then maxes out for the next sixty seconds."

"That's just one time, though. That's nothing," Stark insisted, still playing devil's advocate. "That's a coincidence."

Despite having just come up with a means of finding possible proof of Loki's story, it was evident Stark was still not wholly convinced. Loki could hardly blame the man, but it would have been less complicated if he had just taken him on blind faith.

"Do archives exist of this information?" Loki gestured to the logs.

Stark let out an undignified snort. "It's SHIELD. They've got archives of the archives of the archives. They're like the nerd edition of  _Hoarders_."

"Would it be possible to determine whether these energy spikes correlate to Ms. Nolan's previous appointments with the Ives?"

Stark had already caught onto Loki's line of thinking, even in spite of his skepticism. "Yeah," he nodded, "just give me a second…"

The schematic of the Helicarrier vanished as Stark pulled up a display of Ives's online calendar over the previous six months. He rapidly integrated the information together, aligning the dates of Brynn's therapy sessions with the dates of the power spikes.

The pattern was undeniable. At least once or twice a week, sessions coincided with the telltale sixty-second power draw from a single location in the Helicarrier. There was a significant gap in their frequency starting from the day Loki after arrived, and since that time, there had only been two additional occurrences of the power draws – both being the dates Brynn had actually gone to her appointment, and later came to Loki under the thrall of the scepter.

"Jesus," Stark muttered as his eyes roved over the data. The winds seemed to have been knocked out of his proverbial sails by the dilemma that their enemy-turned-maybe-ally had just thrown into their laps.

Or perhaps he simply needed more fruit.

"It's been going on since she started seeing Dr. Ives," Banner murmured, putting on his classes to take a closer look.

Loki felt no triumph in having successfully convinced Banner and Stark that he was telling the truth. Seeing visual confirmation of his suspicion that Ives was the culprit almost made him physical ill – and not a little inclined to go straight to the woman's office and snap her neck.

"Where is the scepter now?" he asked, dragging his eyes away from the screens.

"A triple-lined lead case that's under 24-hour surveillance," Banner answered. He looked over to Loki, adding, "Fury didn't want to take chances after he saw how you were affected by it when you first got here."

Loki's eyes hardened. "He was right to do so," he said bluntly. "However, Ives obviously has been able to circumvent these security measures."

"But  _how?"_ Banner protested.

"Who cares about how?" Stark replied, "What I want to know is, what's her endgame?"

Before anyone could hazard a guess, Loki's keen sense of hearing caught the sound of beeping and he glanced back to the entrance; a moment later, the doors slid apart and Brynn stepped inside. She had obviously spotted them through the laboratory's fishbowl-style windows and was coming to investigate.

Stark hastily swiped the virtual displays out of sight and tossed his phone onto the desk.

"You guys having a party and I'm not invited?" she called over to them, hands stuffed in her pockets as she strolled their way.

"Hey, Sparky," Stark greeted her with a quick smile. "Nice haircut. How's the noggin?"

"Spark-free at the moment," Brynn replied mildly, drawing up alongside him, "but that's not saying much these days." She looked over to Banner. "Hey, Bruce. How was Haiti?"

Banner did not have a deceptive bone in his body, and guilt was written all over his face. "Hot?" he stammered.

Brynn invited herself to a seat on a nearby stool and fixed Loki with piercing look. "And how was your walk?"

"Informative," he said evasively.

Rolling her eyes – Loki could tell she was not the least bit fooled by their admittedly-pathetic collective attempt at subterfuge – Brynn leaned over and filched Stark's pouch of sunflower seeds.

"You all look like the three musketeers here," she remarked. She dumped out the contents of the pouch and started arranging the seeds into little piles on the desk. "How do you guys know each other?"

"An unsuccessful gentrification project in Manhattan," Loki smoothly replied; in his periphery he saw Banner and Stark snap their heads over to look at him, both wearing identical expressions of outrage.

"Yeah, well, once this new  _project_  is wrapped up," Stark grumbled, finding his voice, "I really hope you get your ass back to Ass-gard."

"Take your complaints up with Fury," Loki shot back; beside him, Banner was surreptitiously trying to fly under the radar and had resumed working on his computer. "I am here on his invitation."

Stark huffed and reached down to pop the silver disc off the CPU. "That guy needs to grow some hair. His head's getting cold."

Banner loudly cleared his throat, still typing. Loki and Stark glanced at him and then over to Brynn, who had stopped playing with her sunflower seeds and was watching them oddly.

Both men stood down, although the lurking animosity between them remained palpable.

"Oh hey," Stark suddenly remembered, face lighting up, "while you're here – I got something for you."

He picked up a large, flat object that had been sitting near Banner's keyboard. It was clearly a tablet, but unlike the iPads Loki had come to recognize, this device was twice the size and semi-transparent.

"No frame rate," he explained, tossing it to Brynn, who nimbly caught it. "Welcome back to the 21st century."

She looked at the tablet in amazement and then back up at Stark, practically glowing. "Really?" she exclaimed.

Loki had not seen her look so excited since the day he had given her the invisibility bracelet, and he felt a savage stab of jealousy that it was Stark who was the recipient of her gratitude now.

She turned the tablet over, trying to locate the power button. "And it's not locked down?"

"That thing's as free as a bird, kiddo," Stark answered carelessly. "Look up whatever you want. Pirate Bay the shit out of this place; I don't care."

Loki was already planning the tablet's tragic demise – perhaps in one of the Helicarrier's propellers – when he noticed Brynn's expression had gone curiously blank. Stark spotted this at about the same time and frowned.

"Hey," he said to her, "Sparkplug. You listening?" He flicked a sunflower seed at her, but she did not react.

When she remained unresponsive, Stark waited another second or two, and then stepped closer to snap his fingers in front of her face.

Nothing. He looked over to Banner. "Does she do this a lot?"

"No," Loki and Banner answered in tandem; Stark's eyes flew over to Loki and narrowed.

"Absence seizure," Banner said, recognizing the symptoms. "Give her a minute – she'll come out of it."

Banner and Stark were too focused on Brynn to notice the demigod who was going quietly frantic beside them. Stark was preparing to chuck another sunflower seed at her when Brynn stirred, blinked a few times and then looked up at them as though nothing had happened.

The three pairs of eyes staring back at her immediately conveyed something was amiss.

"Uh…do I have something stuck in my teeth?"

No one knew what to say, but their silence told her what had happened, and her face crumpled. The tablet slid from her hands and came to rest in her lap as her face fell into her palms.

Banner spoke first, trying to be helpful.

"Sabrina –"

"I'm fine," she muttered.

"But –"

Her hands flew down to her sides, clenched into fists.  _"I'm fucking fine!"_ she shouted, the word  _fine_  coming out just short of a sob.

Loki had been deliberately maintaining a careful distance between Brynn and himself from the moment she had entered the laboratory. Banner appeared to have kept his knowledge of Loki's regard for Brynn to himself, and Loki preferred to keep it that way, particularly in any manners concerning Tony Stark.

But the woman he loved was not only seconds away from falling apart but doing so in front of two individuals he knew she respected. And regardless of his own opinion of the two men in question, Loki could not stand idly by and simply watch the fallout.

He could practically feel Stark's eyes boring holes into his head as he walked over to where Brynn sat hunched on the stool. He came to stand before her, folded his hands behind him, and stooped down so they were at eye level.

Her gaze had been stubbornly fixed on the floor this whole time, but when the toes of Loki's boots came into her sightline, she defiantly raised her chin and met his gaze straight on. The manic rage he saw in her face belied the tears that spilled steadily down her cheeks, and the stern set of his mouth softened.

"You know better than all of us that this will only get worse if you are tired," he reminded her quietly. He searched her eyes, trying to convey a silent plea to her to at least consider hearing him out. "You need to rest.  _Now_."

Brynn's glare only intensified.

With a resigned sigh – acutely aware of the repercussions of what he was about to do next  – Loki reached forward and cupped her cheek in his hand.

"Please, _min lille vannfe,"_ he asked her softly.

Something flickered in her eyes at the use of this pet name, and Loki held his breath as he watched, hoping he had been able to reach her.

She glowered at him a few moments more, but then her head and shoulders sagged, and the fight left her.

"I hate you," he heard her mumble, but the defeat in her voice told him that she did not truly mean it.

Loki straightened and casually drew back, but the damage was done: Banner was staring at him, and Stark looked downright murderous.

Brynn was too drained to pick up on the tension that had suddenly blanketed the room. She dragged herself up from the stool and picked up the tablet and tried to muster a smile.

"Thanks, Tony."

Stark's gaze shifted from Brynn to Loki and then back again.

"Sure thing," he replied shortly. "Take it easy, okay?"

She nodded, mumbled a  _See you later,_ and left.

Stark pounced the instant the doors closed behind her.

"What's  _with_  you?" he demanded, spinning around to face Loki.

Loki knew precisely what he meant but sneered all the same. "I beg your pardon?"

"You and her," Stark said angrily. His mien of indifference was gone; he was out for blood. "Like she actually matters to you, instead of something stuck on your shoe. What happened? Someone finally found your heart and transplanted it back in your chest?"

"I am not discussing this with you, Stark," Loki said icily.

"Yes, you are, ass clown," he shot back, taking a step towards him. "I thought Fury had gone off his shiny bald rocker when he didn't have big brother kick your ass the second you showed up. And I thought everyone had lost their goddamn minds when they told me  _you_  were gonna work with her. But I kept my mouth shut, and  _fine_ , you might have just saved the day here, but –"

"As if you have the moral high ground," Loki scoffed. "One is reminded of the mortal adage regarding stones and glass houses."

Stark looked at him, disgusted. "Are you  _seriously_  about to start lecturing me on morality?"

"And are  _you_  forgetting that it was you who convinced her of the merits of this scheme in the first place?" Loki spat. "That it was  _you_  who put her up to reliving the greatest trauma of her life?"

"I didn't convince her of anything," Stark furiously replied. "She didn't  _need_  convincing. Because she is  _that_  good of a person."

"And on that point, we are in agreement."

"She has already been fucked over by you once," he told Loki angrily, taking another step forward. "This entire  _planet_  has been fucked over by you. And if I find out you've actually  _been_  fucking her – "

"Hey, Tony, come on –"

"No!" Stark threw Banner's hand off from where he had tried to grasp his shoulder in an attempt to calm him. "He doesn't get to come in here and suddenly be the hero."

"And what would you have me to do instead, Stark?" Loki demanded. He began to close the distance between them, walking slowly, eyes burning with contempt.

"Putting yourself into permanent orbit sounds pretty goddamn fabulous to me," Stark shot back. "Isn't there some legend about you and a snake? I'm sure at some point I bought a zoo with a python in it."

The angry lines in Loki's face eased into a knowing smile. "Is this jealousy, Stark?" he slyly inquired.

Stark let out a humorless half-laugh and shook his head, not looking the least bit surprised by Loki's shift in tactics.

"That," he said, pointing towards him, "that's exactly what I'm talking about.  _Right_  there. I'm not jealous, dumbass; I'm pissed, at  _you_. Your job was to help her finish  _this_  job," he flung an arm out in the direction of Banner's computer, "but it looks like all you've done is trick her into thinking you're just a great guy with a tortured soul."

They were almost toe-to-toe now.

"What are you going to do when she finds out the truth?" Stark challenged. "That mister pasty and not-so-handsome was actually the one who killed her family, along with hundreds of other people because he couldn't get off with anyone else in the  _literal_  galaxy except his own ego?"

Loki's face darkened. "I had nothing to do with that deception," he hissed.

"Yeah, but now you seem a little  _too_  happy to stand behind it," Stark declared, "And if you don't tell her what you really did, you better bet your pointy-horned ass that I –"

**_"Quit it!"_ **

They both jumped at the sound of Banner's voice, which had taken on the edge of a growl many registers lower than his natural tone.

Loki and Stark's arguing screeched to a halt. Their faces cautiously turned in unison to look at Banner, each momentarily becoming the other's ally in anticipation of the doctor's alter ego.

The Hulk had not yet appeared, but his arrival seemed imminent; Banner stood before his computer, head down, shoulders shaking, and clenching his fists so violently that Loki could see the veins starting to bulge under his skin.

A distinct greenish hue began to color his knuckles.

"Uh, sun's getting real low, big guy," Stark began saying nervously, as if this phrase had been drilled into his head many times over, "Really,  _really_  low…" He muttered out of the side of his mouth to Loki, "Hey, help me out here."

Loki was uncertain why it was so vitally important to inform Banner of the sun's positioning in the sky, but he picked up the recitation nevertheless.

"Yes…big guy," he soothed, feeling incredibly foolish, "It is low, indeed…an eclipse, perhaps…"

Their words seemed to be taking effect; Banner's fists began to relax, and he started taking slow, deep breaths.

"Real, real low," Stark was still saying when the last tinges of green faded away from Banner's skin.

Banner took a long minute to speak, both arms braced on top of the desk as he waited to ensure he had fully come back to himself. It had been an exceptionally close call; many more lives than just Loki and Stark's would have been at risk had they not been able to calm him.

He finally straightened and turned wearily to look at them. Reflected in his eyes was a mixture of pain and resignation; watching him, Loki felt a sudden sense of kinship towards the man and the lifelong burdens they had been forced upon them both.

"The two of you need to _shut up,_ " Banner said quietly. "Fighting with each other isn't going to get us anywhere."

"Sorry," Stark apologized. His remorse seemed sincere.

"What steps do you suggest we take next, Dr. Banner?" Loki asked. His voice was respectful; unlike Stark, he felt no obligation to offer an apology of his own, but he nevertheless gave weight to Banner's opinion.

"The project's off, obviously," Banner answered. He took another deep breath, still trying to clear his head. "And we need to go to Fury." He glanced over to Loki, and then to Stark. "Can you two hold off on killing each other long enough to try and come up with a plan?"

Stark huffed and started ticking off on his fingers, "So, talk to the one-eyed wonder, come up with a plan to probably save the world, again, and then we can kill each other afterwards? I'm down with that." He turned to Loki, as if wanting his input. "Severus?"

Chin held high, Loki nodded. "Agreed," he replied shortly. "I shall take my leave of you, then, gentlemen."

Stark waved him off with an imperious, "Ta-ta, Lord Sauron. Write when you get a new set of horns."

"I'll send you a text before we see Fury," Banner quickly said. He was anxious to stave off another round of Stark  antagonizing one another, "He's going to want to talk with all of us."

Loki almost smiled. That would certainly be one of his more interesting conversations with the Director.

He merely nodded again in response and spun on his heel, walking towards the exit.

"Send him a text? God, what are you guys,  _Snapchatting_ now?" Loki heard Stark complaining as he left, "Never thought I'd see the day when the Junior Rock of Ages was showing up Capsicle…"

Loki waited until the doors had slid shut behind him before conjuring up a sealed pouch of bubblegum-pink beetles, and then re-apparated it in Stark’s pocket for him to find later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple of things:
> 
> 1) Tony's protectiveness towards Brynn does not stem from him secretly harboring feelings for her. She would otherwise be a blip on his screen if she wasn't the one surviving employee of Stark Outreach, and his interest in her well-being is driven primarily by guilt. I may address this in a later chapter, but in the meantime, I wanted to establish context for why he's so pissed off when Loki tips his hand about having more than a professional interest in Brynn.
> 
> 2) Bruce calling Brynn by her given name is intentional and (for once) not a continuity error. Their mutual inclination to help others gives them common ground, but he knows he's putting her at risk if they become friends, and so he is keeping his distance. There's no potential romance there, just respect for one another as colleagues.
> 
> 3) Insert shameless pleas for comments and kudos here.


	20. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully a 7k+ word chapter makes up for the length of time between updates.
> 
> TW for brief mention of rape.

Viewing Lounge 38 – SHIELD’s grudging acknowledgement of the concept of “downtime” – was bright, welcoming, and hilariously incongruent with the Helicarrier’s otherwise utilitarian architecture.

Sunshine poured through panoramic floor-to-ceiling windows, negating the need for artificial lighting and affording a stunning view of the world outside, which currently was the airspace over Upper Michigan. Tables and comfortable chairs were scattered throughout the expansive space, complementing a small sectional couch that was stationed by the largest bank of windows.

SHIELD’s _execution_ of the concept of “downtime,” of course, meant the place had been on permanent hiatus from the outset. Most of the obnoxiously-cheerful décor remained shrink-wrapped in plastic, the exception being the couch, which was where Loki found Brynn after she had left Banner’s laboratory.  

“If you tell me I should be resting, I swear I will punch you in the fucking face,” he heard her say as he stepped inside.

“I don’t doubt it,” Loki kept his voice neutral, but the vehemence in her tone took him aback, “but doing so may have unfortunate consequences for your hand.”

“I’ll risk it,” she muttered.

She was sitting slumped facing away from him, and so did not see the hurt that came into Loki’s eyes when she said this.

“Is it truly so abhorrent to you that I care about your well-being?” he asked quietly.

His question was met with stony silence, until a soft, “No,” reached his ears.

Brow furrowed with worry, Loki watched her for a bit before finally walking over to join her. Stark’s tablet rested on the arm of the couch and came into view as he drew nearer, but it was turned off, much to his relief.

“How are you always able to find me?” Brynn asked, not looking at him as he sank down next to her. She sat huddled in the corner of the sectional, arms half-crossed and a hand at her mouth.

Loki gestured to her bracelet, which she had left sitting out on top of the tablet.

Brynn paused in gnawing the side of her thumb raw and gave him a sidelong glance. “That’s kind of stalker-y.”

His mouth opened in protest and then closed, seeing her point.

“I – my apologies, that was not my intent.” Chastened, he held out his hand. “May I?”

She wordlessly picked up the bracelet and passed it over to him.

His token was starting to show signs of wear, Loki observed, even in just a few short weeks. The magic imbued within it was never intended to extend to the material itself, and the deep green leather had faded and lost its sheen from near-constant rubbing against the inside of Brynn’s pockets.

Dissatisfied with the results of his hasty craftsmanship, he placed it in his open palm and went to work.  

The battered bracelet started shimmering with ripples of soft golden light. Under Loki’s direction, the braided leather rewove itself to form a far more intricate plait before doubling over to create a second circlet that was broader in width than the first. Both plaits underwent subtle reconditioning as they finished tying themselves off, softening to the texture of supple rawhide, and restoring its rich green hue.  

Palm still upturned, Loki’s fingers closed into a tight fist. The golden shimmers of his magic intensified in brightness, their light reflecting in Brynn’s eyes as she watched, before gradually fading away as his hand eased open once more.

A double-band bracelet accented with gold and silver now rested in his palm. The original knot that invoked the charm had separated into two trifold knots; tiny gold ovals dangled from each, one stamped with the Norse character for the letter _S,_ the other bearing Loki’s own sigil, the two-headed snake. Secured in the center of the broader circlet was a silver, single outstretched wing of a bird. A smaller matching clasp joined the ends of both circlets together, allowing the bracelet to be worn without invoking the spell.

“Fasten it around the rune if you prefer to have privacy,” Loki explained, offering it back to her, “and use the sigil if you wish for me to be able to locate you.”

Brynn’s curiosity overrode her determination to be surly, and after a moment’s hesitation, she reached out and took the bracelet in hand. Loki caught a trace of a fleeting smile as he watched her examine it, then smiled himself when he saw her take notice of the detailing on the gold accents.

“Thank you,” she murmured, touching the sigil with a careful fingertip.

Pleased, he helped Brynn clasp the bracelet around her wrist before moving to settle next to her against the under-stuffed sofa pillows. Trying to find a comfortable spot quickly proved to be no easy task, as the garishly-hued piece of furniture was as much lacking in taste as it was comfort.

He was readying to conjure up a duplicate of his favorite chaise lounge from home when the sight of Lake Superior came into view through the window, distracting him from the seating.

The enormous body of water was mesmerizing, its long stretches of vibrant green trees interspersed with swaths of land. And although the view could not compare to the glorious vistas of the Realm Eternal, as he gazed out at the upper peninsula, Loki could recall why the prospect of ruling Midgard had once held so much appeal. He had scorned its occupants, but this particular branch of Yggdrasil held its own unique beauty. It still beckoned to him, even after all that had transpired.

Motion in his periphery drew his focus away from the window, and he took a quick glance over to Brynn. She was lost in thought, one leg folded up against her chest, her other leg bent at the knee and bouncing lightly against the couch, fingers drumming atop her thigh.

Sensing his eyes on her, Brynn self-consciously drew both legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her knees. Within moments, she was already shifting her weight from one side to the other. It was obvious that she was doing her best to sit quietly, but her restlessness only worsened the longer she struggled to remain still.

When she grew so fidgety that he could feel the sofa cushions beginning to vibrate, Loki reached out and put his arm around her shoulders. Brynn leaned into him without hesitation, and he brought her closer and kissed the top of her head.

“Don’t fight it,” he told her, speaking into her hair.

Several minutes passed as Loki patiently waited for Brynn’s squirming to ease. He knew by now that her nervous energy would never completely subside, but he was familiar with her baseline level of “twitchy” and could read the signs of when she was truly agitated versus the times when she was calm.

Eventually she stilled and took a deep breath. “I thought…”

“Thought what?” he asked her gently.

Brynn slumped further into his side with a heavy sigh. “I thought you would be the answer to everything.”

She had never sounded so defeated.

“That you’d help me remember the accident,” she continued, “that SHIELD would get what they need, and then I would finally be able to start over. Use the life insurance money to start a therapeutic riding program upstate. Go back to Nevada.” She trailed off, as if momentarily envisioning this possible future, and then shook her head, continuing, “I don’t know, just do something new. Go somewhere else. But,” her voice grew bitter, “now I’m starting to think I won’t ever stop living this nightmare.”

“I could still be the answer to everything,” Loki offered.

Brynn lifted her head from his shoulder to look at him. “What do you mean?”

“Let’s leave,” he told her.

“Leave?” she repeated, puzzled.

Loki moved to grasp her by the shoulders and turned her to face him, warming to the idea the more he considered it.

“Yes,” he nodded. “Right now. I’ll take you, anywhere you wish.”

“But I can’t leave,” Brynn protested. She seemed genuinely flabbergasted that he could make such a suggestion. “I told them I’d help.”

“What do you owe SHIELD?” Loki demanded. “Why do they deserve such loyalty for helping you heal, for simply doing what was right?”

“SHIELD doesn’t deserve a thing,” she admitted, conceding his point. “Not really. But Tony does.”

Loki’s jaw tightened at this mention of Stark, but Brynn misinterpreted his change in expression as a sign of confusion and tried to clarify what she meant.

“I would still be inpatient if he hadn’t gone looking for me when Sammy and I didn’t come back to work,” she explained. “And, he said if we could figure out what the accident did to my brain, that it would help humanity. Who wouldn’t want to have a chance to do that?”

She was all earnestness, looking at him with such blind faith in her eyes that Loki realized it had never even entered her mind that he could possibly think otherwise.

How could she be so naïve? How could _anyone_ be this naïve?

“Have you no grasp of what they’re asking of you,” he exclaimed, “of what you would be putting yourself through?” Voice growing strained, he added, “Of what will be left of you afterwards?” He still held her by the shoulders, and he gave her a slight shake, as if this might make her see sense. “Brynn, _stop_ and _think,”_ he implored _._ “You would be reliving the worst moments of your life –”

“I _have_ thought about it,” she cried. She pulled away from him and his hands dropped helplessly back down to his lap. “I’ve already been through hell, Loki! What’s reliving it all one more time going to matter if it means Sammy and the baby didn’t die for nothing?”

He flinched.

“I can accept having to put myself back together again if it means their dying wasn’t a complete waste,” Brynn insisted, “that something _good_ can come out of what happened that might help other people. Loki, don’t you get it?”  

She was desperate to try and make him understand, but he could not, _would_ not _,_ accept her rationale.  

“My whole job was helping people,” Brynn said to him plaintively, “and I can’t do my job anymore, but this is one thing I _can_ do, and that’s why I have to stay.”

Loki’s breath was coming hard and fast, mouth partially hung open as he stared at her and tried to process her words. No one was this self-sacrificing, _no_ one –

Abruptly, his gaze trailed away from her. A blurred memory flickered into the purview of his mind’s eye, brightening until the reverie took discernible form and shape.

Visible to only Loki, the outskirts of a small desert town came into sight behind Brynn’s shoulder. The township’s buildings were razed, its citizens fleeing after a sudden attack, but amidst the smoking rubble stood the figure of one lone man. As his companions looked on in horror, he fearlessly placed himself into the oncoming path of the source of destruction – a monstrous, metal humanoid that was readying to destroy him with a concussive blast of flame.

_Brother, however I have wronged you, whatever I have done that has led you to do this, I am truly sorry. But these people are innocent; taking their lives will gain you nothing. So take mine, and end this._

The image faded away, and the taste in Loki’s mouth grew bitter.

What exquisite cruelty this was. The god of lies, of chaos, of treachery, had lost his heart to a woman so unequivocally _good_ that he was likely tainting her by his mere presence. A hundred lifetimes of doing penance for Odin could never make him deserving of one such as her.

…But selfish bastard that he was, until the moment she told him otherwise, he would never leave her side.

“Loki, please,” Brynn begged, grabbing his hands and speaking in a rush, “ _please_ help me remember. I’ve been avoiding it, I know I have, but you can actually see into my head, and all Dr. Ives can do is make me talk about it, and there’s been nothing to talk about for months because _I can’t remember it._ All I remember Sammy and me getting into the car and then there’s nothing.”

“All right,” he whispered. He sounded distant, mind still half-ensnared by the memory of Puente Antigo.

Brynn’s face grew eager. “Can we do it now?”

Loki’s eyes hardened and his focus came fully back to the present. “No,” he said flatly.

She promptly launched into an argument, but he interrupted her, saying, “I realize you want to do all of this as soon as possible, but you have had two seizures in the last twenty-four hours. Manipulating your mind is likely ill-advised.”

“But we can try again soon?” she pressed.

Loki was slow to reply. Face forlorn, he lifted his hand and sadly traced his thumb from the center of Brynn’s lips and down her chin, wondering if his mouth would ever touch hers. What she was asking of him risked setting her off on a path that he knew he could not follow. But likewise, he could not deny her request.

Unable to meet Brynn’s hopeful gaze, Loki let his hand fall and gave a faint nod. “Yes.”

He felt a piece of his heart shear off when she rose onto her knees to throw her arms around his neck.

“Thank you,” she whispered gratefully, pressing a kiss against his cheek.

The close contact left Loki wanting more, and he was suddenly taken by the overwhelming need to keep her as close as possible.

Giving Brynn no chance to object, he boldly scooped her legs out from under her to bring her sideways onto his lap. Her unease was evident by her rigid posture, but she did not protest about his liberties. Taking that as tacit permission, Loki proceeded to drape her arm over his shoulders, put his arms around her waist, and leaned his head down to rest upon her chest.

After a moment’s hesitation – during which he held himself braced for rejection – Brynn brought her hand up and began to play with his hair. Loki closed his eyes with a sigh, enjoying the unexpected sensation.

“No offense,” her voice was teasing, “but I think I had a rougher day at the office than you did.”

He didn’t answer, preferring to direct his focus upon the velvety softness of her skin against his cheek. These were uncharted waters for him, he realized as he listened to the steady beating of Brynn’s heart. He could not recall a time in his life when he desired emotional intimacy just as fiercely as carnal love.

Still, the familiar scent of her – the _feel_ of her – was as soothing as it was intoxicating. Odious furnishings bedamned, if Brynn but said the word, he would have laid her bare and bedded her there in an instant. She had bathed and changed clothes since their parting earlier in that morning, and her fitted top was doing very little to nudge Loki’s lust-weakened thoughts in a purer direction.

With uncanny timing, Brynn asked, “What’s got you down?”

“I find myself not feeling overly fond of ‘slow,’” he admitted.

Her hand stilled.

_Best not press your luck,_ Loki chided himself.

“Why were you talking to Bruce and Tony?” she asked, changing the subject.

“We were trying to determine why your seizures are worsening.”

“And?”

Brynn tugged his hair when he didn’t respond.

“And I find myself no fonder of Tony Stark than when we last met,” Loki answered dryly, eyes still closed. “The conversation was entirely pointless.”

“Sammy sometimes had a hard time with him, too,” she mused. “Said he was too showy.”

“Sammy was an excellent judge of character.”

“Sort of,” she agreed with a bit of a laugh. “He had a really bad habit of liking everybody.”

Every muscle in Loki’s body tensed, and he fought the childish urge to tighten his hold on Brynn and growl, _Mine._ His resentment of Sammy was all but gone, but this was _his_ time. He did not want these moments spoiled with discussion of her late husband.

Again, however, Brynn surprised him, and let the topic drop. She adjusted herself to sit more comfortably against him and resumed toying with his hair. Loki’s eyes drifted closed once more.

Weeks’ worth of fatigue – the ever-present drain upon his magic, coupled with mounting stress and lack of sleep – had taken their toll, and as Brynn’s fingers continued to skim across his scalp, he soon found himself growing so drowsy that he was in danger of nodding off.

Caught in that dopey, half-alert state between sleep and awake, where impulse blithely supersedes better judgment, Loki decided to indulge himself further. Straightening, he raised his head and muttered three ancient words in quick succession.

His surcoat vanished, and then his vambraces. His tunic and chest plate followed, leaving him clad in only the form-fitting black shirt he wore beneath, along with his breeches and boots.

A glowing orb of green light appeared in his hand next; Brynn let out a wild shriek and leapt out of his lap, standing clear as Loki tossed the sphere at the couch, where it burst on impact to leave behind a large, luminescent puddle.

“Give me some warning next time!” she sputtered as the glowing liquid started absorbing itself into the cushions. “That – that was like chugging a bottle of Listerine! Jesus!”

Her unique response to magic, coupled with being in close quarters to Loki as he cast such a rapid series of spells, had resulted in her receiving the equivalent of a full-body, Seidr-fueled electrical zap.

“Surprise,” Loki replied absently. He had remained seated and was watching the last of the luminescent potion disappear into the upholstery.

Brynn opened her mouth to lambast him for his lack of remorse, but the words died on her lips when she saw that the enchanted half of the sectional had started to lengthen.

Several seconds and a few additional feet later, the couch met Loki’s with satisfaction, and he waved his hand, palm-down, to break the spell.

Turning to Brynn, he offered her the same hand and requested, “Humor me?”

She dragged her gaze away from the couch and looked warily back at him.

“I shall abide by your stipulation of slow,” Loki added, hand still extended.

Thusly reassured, Brynn went to take it but then stopped short. She looked at him, wide-eyed, and for a moment she seemed as though she might cry.

“I’m not trying to be a tease,” she blurted out. “This morning, I mean. In bed.”

“Nor I,” the guilt Loki heard in her voice troubled him, “I…simply want to be near you.”

Some of the tension left Brynn’s face when she heard this, and she let Loki pull her back down next to him. He gave her a swift kiss on the forehead and before moving to swing both of his legs up and onto the couch, stretching out full-length on his side.

“If you wanted to cuddle, you could’ve just asked,” she remarked as his head came to rest in her lap.

Loki merely hummed in response, eyes falling shut when Brynn set about trying to plait his hair.

_How far the mighty have fallen,_ he mused.

“You need a haircut,” Brynn observed as she carefully sectioned his hair into three strands.

“And you need to sleep, Sabrina Mae,” he replied. “Shall we make a bargain? One for the other?”

This prospect was so appealing to Brynn that Loki practically heard her jaw drop. “You’d let me cut your hair?” she exclaimed.

“I’d consider it, yes,” he had no intention of doing anything of the sort, “ _if_ you sleep.”

“Deal!” she said gleefully, then ordered, “Magic me some scissors.” This edict was accompanied by a rough nudge of her knee, jostling him.

Loki’s eyes rolled beneath his lids. “Sleep first.”

It may have been weeks since he’d last physically sat upon his throne, but the commanding tone in his voice allowed for no negotiation.

Grumbling, Brynn acquiesced and leaned in the direction opposite to Loki, still accommodating his head in her lap as she draped herself against his shoulder and waist to settle atop his side. She folded her forearms on his hip to cushion her head and let out a long, slow sigh.

“Thank you,” he heard her say softly after a time.

“Whatever for?”

“For caring.”

“Always,” Loki replied sincerely.

“You know I care about you too, right?” That same guilt-ridden tone had returned to her voice.

Loki shifted to free his arm from between his chest and the sofa and reached up for her hand. Finding it, he eased her fingers away from where she had started worrying the bronze trim on his breeches and intertwined his fingers with hers.

“Yes,” he answered. His thumb drifted back and forth across her knuckles. “I know.”

Brynn went to speak but then reconsidered, opting for safer territory. “You’re not really going to let me cut your hair, are you?”

“My dear, permitting you to do so is as likely as the Director re-growing his eye.”

“So that’s a no?”

“That is indeed a no.”

There came a thoughtful pause.

“ _Could_ you regrow his eye?”

“I should be more inclined to regrow his hair,” Loki muttered. "Now go to sleep, _liten fe."_

Fighting a yawn, Brynn snuggled closer and mumbled, “Whatever.”

Their banter lapsed into silence as they watched the clouds drift past the windows, puffy whiteness gradually shifting to gray.

* * *

  _You will have your war, Asgardian. If you fail, if the Tesseract is kept from us, there will be no realm, no barren moon, no crevice where he can not find you. You think you know pain? **He will make you long for something as sweet as pain!**_

The Other’s words pounded throughout Loki’s skull, reverberating mercilessly in and around him until his eardrums felt on the verge of bursting. Yet amidst the deafening clamor, he could hear another voice – someone calling his name.

Crags of rock gave way to starlit sky as the Sanctuary faded from sight. He began to feel the weight of someone straddling his hips, followed by the sensation of hands at his shirt, shaking him.

The same voice again. Female.

_“Loki! Loki, wake up!”_

His eyes snapped open.

A feral growl tore from his throat as he shot forward and seized his attacker by the arms. Slamming the woman onto her back, he landed crouched over top of her, one hand pinning her wrists above her head, the other pressing a dagger to her throat.

_“What are you?”_ he hissed.

Lying caged between his knees, the frightened mortal tried to answer, but the wind had been knocked out of her and her voice kept failing.

“It – it – it’s Brynn,” she finally managed to croak. “It’s me.”

The blade of his knife kissed her neck in response, and a thin line of red lanced across her skin. Beads of blood began to form along the cut.

“Sabrina Fair,” she blurted out.

Loki’s brow furrowed at this nonsensical phrase, and his eyes trained on hers.

_“Listen for dear honor’s sake,”_ her voice was shaking so badly that the words she spoke were nearly unintelligible, but he could still make them out, _“goddess of the silver lake, listen and save…”_

It was a poem, he realized when she fell silent. One that he recognized, and nothing he could recall ever hearing during his exile.

His grip on her wrists eased and he slowly lowered the knife. He studied at her face again, harder.

Realizing she had his attention, the woman took a quick intake of breath and continued, _“I touch with chaste palms moist and cold, now the spell hath lost his hold.”_

_Now the spell hath lost his hold…_

And then Loki knew.

The dagger vanished.

“Brynn,” he choked.

He released her and sagged back on his heels, anguished. _What have I done?_

Brynn’s face was very white as she drew her arms back to her sides and eased herself out from under him, her eyes not leaving his for fear of what he might do next. Loki let out a strangled gasp when he saw the blood weeping down her neck and the mottled bruises about her wrists.

He began to babble, repeating, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over.

“It’s okay,” Brynn insisted as she pushed herself up to a seated position. Her voice remained shaky, yet she still reached out to put a comforting hand on his arm – and then halted. The little color that had started to return to her face drained away once more, but Loki did not need to see the fright in her eyes to know the source of her terror.

He was panicking, severely, and the glamour of his Aesir form was beginning to fade as a result. The link to Odin’s magic had maintained the illusion during the panic attacks he experienced as a child, but more than a millennium later, it had never occurred to him until that moment that this protection would have ended upon the death of the Allfather.

A breath escaped from him in a hiss as he desperately called upon his magic, but dread of Brynn’s reaction to his true form was fueling his own dread of himself, and his Seidr danced further out of his reach.

Loki clamped his eyes shut as Jotun continued to overpower Aesir. He could feel himself growing more attuned to molecules of water in the air, and his skin, now hyperaware to changes in temperature, sensed warmth approaching his hands.

“Don’t!” he cried, “I’ll hurt you –”

His eyes flew open, their irises and sclera both a vivid scarlet. Brynn had drawn closer and knelt couched between him and the pillowed sofa back, and he saw her courage falter when her gaze met his. In his Jotun form Loki could literally _smell_ the scent of her fear – and likewise he caught the shift in pheromones when that fear gave way to stubborn resolve.

Through slitted lids, he watched as Brynn begin to fumble with her bracelet. She quickly re-looped the clasp over the sigil, and then yanked the sleeves of her shirt down over each hand. As the green of Loki’s magic blanketed over her, she fisted both cuffs outside-in and then reached out, grabbing his wrists through the fabric of her shirt. The jersey instantly began to crust over with lacy swirls of hoarfrost, but her grasp remained firm.

“C’mon,” she told him, climbing over his legs and getting to her feet. She pulled at him when he didn’t move. “I need you to walk – Loki, stand _up_ ,” she insisted.

Loki was in agony but nevertheless permitted her to haul him up and stumbled after her as she led him to the exit and out the door.

He lost all sense of time as Brynn ushered him down the corridor, small sheets of ice trailing behind him on the floor with every footfall. Soon he found himself facing a familiar set of double doors – the fateful practice studio in which his life’s course had changed in the span of a single afternoon.

Brynn pushed one of the doors open with her hip and took a quick glance inside, then pulled him in behind her once she confirmed the room was empty.  

“Wait here,” she instructed.

After propping Loki up in the corner, she darted away, returning to his side so rapidly that he had no time to register her absence.

“All clear,” she told him breathlessly. “Can you lock it? _Really_ lock it?”

He had been endeavoring to keep his eyes shut for fear of frightening Brynn further, but reluctantly dragged his eyes open at her request, and saw that she was gesturing in the direction of the door. Dumbly, he reached out a hand; an unrestrained burst of magic – not his familiar emerald-gold Seidr, but glacier-blue – shot out from his fingers. Seconds later the doors were encased from top-to-bottom in a thick layer of ice.

Again came that same scent of Brynn’s fear, but she simply grabbed Loki by the sleeve and continued leading him forward. Wherever she was dragging him took them past a mirror-lined wall, and he came near to collapsing at the glimpse he caught of the cerulean beast reflected in the glass. Moaning, he squeezed his eyes shut and kept them closed.

Soon Loki heard Brynn push open yet another door and felt her draw him into different room. The acoustics changed as he crossed the threshold; whatever chamber they had entered allowed for louder echoes of sound, and the surrounding air felt oddly damp.

A cool rush of air swept by him as Brynn stepped away. A moment later he heard the flick of a light switch, followed by the sound of running water. The air began to grow warm and humid, and soon he could taste the bright flavors of oxygen and hydrogen skimming over his tongue.

Realizing she must have brought him to some variety of washroom, Loki wearily opened his eyes and was greeted by the unexpected sight of a large, glassed-in shower. Brynn stood with her hand under the stream of water, impatiently waiting for it to warm. 

Surely she was not daft enough to think she could simply bathe away the blue from his skin, he thought stupidly.

The water quickly heated, and Brynn turned back to Loki, tugging her shirtsleeves over her hands again as she went.

“Come on,” she murmured encouragingly.

She grasped Loki by the wrists, coaxed him forward, and together they stepped inside the shower.

Water rushed down in a steady stream over them both as Brynn guided Loki to the floor, kneeling with him as she helped him to sit. Wonderment joined the pain in his face as she adjusted him to rest comfortably, and he found himself unable to look away from her.  

Thick clouds of mist rose as the water saturated him from head to toe, and over many long minutes, heat slowly began to permeate his frigid form. Through the steam he could see Brynn crouched at his knee, her eyes flicking back and forth across his face as she studied him.

Loki wearily leaned his head back to rest against the wall, gazing at her in a stupor and watching the water droplets clinging to her eyelashes.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered.

Brynn’s eyes softened and a sad smile touched her lips. “So are you,” she replied.

Before he could stop her, Brynn suddenly reached out and put her palm to his forehead, then his cheek. His vulgar Jotun flesh responded with a surge of arousal as her fingers glided against the ridged patterns on his face, and he shuddered, turning his head away.

“You’re still too cold,” he heard her mutter. She twisted around and reached up behind her, turning the faucet as far as it could go. The temperature of the water increased to just short of scalding.

Loki started to tell her that the water was far too hot for her, Brynn ignored his pleas and turned back around to face him.

“Move,” she ordered, and then began worming her way between him and the wall, leaving him no choice but to do as she demanded.

Brynn settled herself behind Loki so he sat between her knees, his back snug against her chest, his head coming to rest in the curve between her neck and shoulder. He was unable to stop the stuttered sob that escaped from him as her other arm slid under his and came around his torso, keeping him close.

Loki lifted a trembling, still-blue hand to cover his face. It was the first time since infancy that he had been touched by another whilst in his Frost Giant form, and instead of being abhorred, he was being _embraced_.

“I’m sorry,” he tried to tell her again.

“Is this the frost thing you were talking about?” she asked.

Loki managed a nod, surprised when he felt Brynn’s quiet half-laugh in response behind him.

“Tonight,” she told him, “we’re going to watch a movie called _Avatar_. And then we’re going to watch the _Smurfs_. And then _Smurfs 2_. And if you keep up with this self-loathing bullshit after that, I’ll make you sit through the Blue Man Group, which I already know you’re going to hate, so you’d better quit.”

His teeth gritted, despair momentarily forgotten. The little fool; did she find this _funny_? She should be running away from the demon, not towards it!

“How are you not afraid?” he spat. He pulled away from Brynn, turning half-around to glare at her over his shoulder. “How are you not repulsed by – by _this_ ,” he disgustedly gestured to himself.

“I don’t know,” she answered blankly. Her eyes were wide, this time not from fear but confusion. “Does it matter?”

“Does it matter that I am more monster than man?” he cried. “That I am the spawn of –”

Brynn lunged forward with both arms, cutting him off, and clumsily yanked him back against her in a bearhug. The words stuck in Loki’s throat and he slumped into her as she locked her hands around her wrists to hold him as tightly as she was capable. Her meagre strength was a butterfly’s touch compared to his own, but somehow her embrace grounded him just as much as Thor’s once did as a child.

A whispered, “Breathe,” reached his ear.

Loki’s vision blurred with tears.

“Don’t think,” Brynn leaned her head forward to press her cheek to his, and this time his body responded not with arousal, but with utter relief.

“You’re safe.”

He heard no trace of fear in Brynn’s voice, sensed no hesitation in her touch. And for that moment in time, he knew where he belonged.

Slowly, his eyes fluttered closed.   

* * *

“What was the dream?” she asked him later, after the hot water had finally run out. They had returned to the viewing lounge, and Brynn was helping him change into a set of SHIELD-issue athletic wear that she found in one of the supply lockers.

Loki sat numbly on the couch as she pulled a black cotton T-shirt over his head. It would have been easy enough to use a spell to dry himself, but he could not recall the last time he had permitted anyone to take care of him, and the experience was so disconcerting that he had submitted to her ministrations without protest.

Forgetting that Brynn was still waiting for him to answer her question, Loki blinked up at her and tried to surmise why she was shivering. He was in his Aesir form and warm to the touch once more; there was no reason for his proximity to be the source of her chill. Then he realized she was still sopping wet.  

Brynn had just finished getting the shirtsleeve over his right arm and was leaning over him to start on his left when Loki stopped her. She looked at him in confusion, and then glanced down as he began gliding his fingertips along the hem of her shirt and down her hip. The fabric immediately began to dry.

As the damp finished evaporating from Brynn’s clothes, Loki reached up to her with both hands and ran his fingers through her wet hair, drying it and restoring the soft, wavy curls he had grown to adore.

“That’s a fun trick,” she murmured, giving him a small smile as he judiciously tucked her hair behind her ears.

Loki nodded faintly and drew back, unable to muster the energy to make a verbal response. His eyes drifted towards the window as Brynn resumed guiding his other arm through the sleeve.

“What was the dream?” she asked a second time. She finished tugging the shirt the remainder of the way down his torso and then straightened.

He refused to answer.

“Loki?”

He felt a touch at his shoulder, but he continued to remain silent.

Undeterred, Brynn sank down and knelt before him. This was no show of obeisance; she was forcing Loki to acknowledge her, and he did as such when she leaned forward and reached up to touch his cheek.

“Please talk to me,” she asked softly. She drew back when she knew she had his attention, her hand coming to rest atop his knee.

Loki could hardly bear to look at her. He had once yearned for humanity to kneel before him; now he longed only to throw himself at her feet and beg for absolution.

_What was the dream?_

His time in the Sanctuary had been dotted with periods of acute sensory deprivation. These fragments of time left him frantic and raving for contact of any kind, even agony that came under the guise of respite. By the end, his perceptions were so distorted that he _was_ left longing for something as sweet as pain, for pain at least meant a reprieve from the agony of absolute nothingness.

_Being held as a babe, his pale, warm, and petal-soft cheek nuzzled into Frigga’s breast. Milk-drunk and surrounded by her loving warmth, only to be flung into the bitter cold, his frightened wails growing muffled as the whirling snow accumulated over his tiny blue body._

_Phantom hands that flayed skin from muscle and left his flesh in ribbons, all the while surrounded by voices that soothed, buying his loyalty in exchange for the hope of a single gentle touch._

_Rape that violated every orifice yet rendered him senseless with climax after climax._

Loki licked dry lips and attempted to formulate a coherent sentence.

“After I learned the truth about my parentage,” he began, “I was in such a state of mind that I cared not whether I lived or died. During this time, I encountered an…individual.”

His breathing grew unsteady as he recalled fighting his way back to consciousness after his fall from the Bifrost, only to open his eyes and see the Titan, leering down at him.

Brynn quickly reached for Loki’s hands and gathered them in both of hers. The phantom vice squeezing his lungs loosened at her touch, and he could speak again.  

“He lured me to him with promises of knowledge. Of power,” Loki continued, voice dull and devoid of emotion. “Instead I was tortured. Physically. Mentally. Sexually.”

Brynn’s grip on his hands tightened.

“Violated in every way possible until my mind was unmade entirely,” he was rambling now, “And when the pieces were rejoined, I was left no more than a shadow of the man I had once been. It was during this time that the scepter was entrusted to me, and I was unable to regain my sense of self until I was no longer under its influence. But the cost of my downfall was great.”

_…Look at this! Look around you! You think this madness will end with your rule?_

_…These people are innocent! You cannot sacrifice an entire race!_

_…You might want to take the stairs to the left._

Loki’s eyes stung with unshed tears, but none fell. In all this time, he had not yet permitted himself to mourn, convinced that he was not worthy of the privilege and would always be as such.

His gaze dropped down to where Brynn’s hands rested in his lap, still conjoined with his.

“My mother was murdered not long after,” he finished, “and it took her death for me to truly start finding my way back to sanity.”

Loki fell silent, and for a time the only sound that could be heard was the ambient hum of the Helicarrier’s engines. Awaiting judgment, he finally lifted his eyes to look at Brynn.

Her cheeks and mouth were wet with tears.

“Oh, Loki,” her voice hitched in a sob, “I’m so damn sorry.”

A wave of despair crested over him when he heard her words, taking with it the last shreds of pride and self-possession he had left. He pulled Brynn up from the floor and onto his lap, clutched her to him, and wept.

Immediately, her arms came around his shoulders. She drew him close and began to slowly rock him, hushing him as he cried, letting him bury his face against her neck. Distantly, he thought that she would have been a wonderful mother; this realization only brought on another surge of anguish.

Sobbing, Loki clung to her like a drowning man and permitted grief to engulf him at last.

He mourned the loss of Frigga, who had loved him so well that she had borne the vitriol of his last words to her with an affectionate smile.

He mourned the wasted years, all spent being consumed with petty spite and jealousy towards Thor – his oaf of a brother who never waned in the steadfast belief that he could be redeemed.

He mourned the path his life could have taken, had Odin and Frigga only told him the truth from the start.

He even mourned the death of Odin, who for all of his faults was the only father he would ever know.

The list was seemingly endless, and the sky outside was black by the time his gasping sobs eventually subsided. Finally Loki took a ragged breath, swallowed hard, and raised his head. Avoiding Brynn’s gaze, he loosened one arm from around her waist and – in a most unprincely-like fashion – dried his face and wiped his nose using the neck of his shirt.

He was too caught up in regaining his dignity to spot the knowing look that had entered Brynn’s eyes as she waited, watching as the traumatized little boy was tucked away to be concealed behind the man.

Loki readjusted his shirt and managed a wan smile.

“I have taken terrible care of you today,” he said, forcing a lightness into his voice that they both knew he did not feel.

He withdrew the arm that was still around Brynn’s waist and took her wrists in his hands, wanting to survey the damage. Her skin was braceleted in bruises; it was a miracle that he had not snapped them completely.

“You know that’s not your job, right?” she reminded him gently. “Taking care of me?”

“Yes,” Loki admitted as he turned her hands over to look at her palms, “which makes me all the more appreciative of the times you permit me to do so. Do not move.”

His fingertips began to glow, his Seidr once more its familiar shade green. He firmly pressed both of his thumbs into the soft flesh at the base of her wrists, which became encircled with slowly-rotating rings of green light.

Leaving the enchantment to do its work, he then turned his attention to the next wound.

“Have you ever talked with anyone about what happened?” she asked as Loki lifted her chin and carefully tilted her head to better examine the cut on her neck.  

“If you are suggesting I throw myself at the feet of your precious Dr. Ives,” Loki’s voice was still gravelly but no less haughty, “then I will be forced to do something rash.”

“Like what?”

_Shatter every bone in her body, is what._

_“Ow!”_

“I’m sorry!” He yanked his hands back as Brynn flinched away, cursing himself for being so clumsy as to allow his anger to carry through into the spell.

“It’s okay,” she rubbed the newly-formed scab on her neck with a wince, “but let’s just use a band-aid next time.”

Loki smiled sadly as he went to check on the progress of her wrists, taking care this time to keep his emotions in check. The bruising was gone, leaving behind flawless skin.  

“There won’t be a next time,” he assured her. He forced himself to end the spell, resisting the urge to maintain its appearance as an excuse to remain in contact with her.  

She lifted an eyebrow at him, skeptical. “You’re never going to fall asleep again?”

Loki shook his head, still wearing that same smile.

Comprehension dawned on Brynn’s face when she realized what Loki was not saying aloud, and she began to stubbornly shake her head.

“ _No._ No, no, no, no –”

“I could have _killed_ you,” he harshly reminded her as she shoved herself off his lap and stormed away.

Brynn stomped a few more steps before she spun on her heel and turned around, flinging her arms out in abject frustration. _“Then don’t sleep with knives anymore!”_ she said shrilly.

Loki sighed and scrubbed a hand down his face, uncertain of how to make her understand without further incurring her ire – or frightening her.

“It is not as simple as that,” he explained, “My magic is as much a part of my being as my flesh and blood. A millennium of instinct cannot be undone in an instant.”

She gave him a flat look. “You’re seriously telling me you’ve spent the last eight bajillion years sleeping with knives.”

Loki half-shrugged. “In a manner of speaking, yes.”

“What are you so afraid of?” she challenged, taking a step towards him. “That another Dark Elf is going to come stab you in your sleep? That Dobby’s going to sneak in at night and steal your socks?”

“Do not make light of this,” he said with a sigh. “I could never forgive myself if I caused you harm; surely you know that.”

Brynn made no reply and stomped away again, seething.

Loki sat back in his seat and stretched his legs out, expression resigned, fingers pinched to the bridge of his nose for the second time that day. This sudden swing in mood was dizzying, and yet somehow he loved her all the more for it.

“OK, let’s talk this out,” he heard her say crossly. “You like sleeping with me, right?”

_I should like to sleep with you every night for the rest of my life, if you would have me._

Loki opened his eyes and raised his head. “Yes.”

“But you can’t not have your dumb wizard knives.”

Mouth thinned in irritation, he nodded again.

“Then why can’t you just magic them so they can’t hurt me?” Brynn demanded. “Make them turn into,” she thought for a moment, “I don’t know, they turn into strawberries or something if they touch me? Oh, wait," she paused, muttering, "I’m allergic." Then her expression became hopeful and she suggested, "Coconuts? You know what a coconut is, right?”

Loki looked back at her in astonishment, and then started to laugh.

She peered at him. “So…no coconuts?”

“Nary a one, I am afraid,” he admitted, “but…” His voice trailed off and then he shook his head in amusement, bracing himself for the gloating he knew he was about to endure. “Modifying the spell is a perfect solution. I do not know why it did not occur to me…”

Brynn’s eyes had glazed over. She was staring into space, lost in another seizure.

“…sooner,” he finished softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To anyone side-eyeing Brynn’s stratospheric, needs-of-the-many-outweigh-the-needs-of-the-few level of self-sacrifice: Brynn is partially based on a social worker friend/colleague of mine. In short, she makes Steve Rogers look like a try-hard. Her selflessness knows no bounds, and there have been more times than I can count where I was left picking my jaw off the floor when I saw the lengths she would go to in order to ensure kids and families got the support they needed. Brynn’s willingness to retraumatize herself is how my friend would proceed if she were in the same situation, far-fetched as it is.
> 
> ALSO - to anyone who's been following along prior to this, the whole fic has been completely re-edited. It was mostly cleaning up sloppy writing, and there are some added lines of dialogue or details here and there. The biggest change is Loki not adopting Birdy as a nickname for Brynn. (Thank you to masterofthefall over at FF.net for the consult.) Instead he's started using variations of "liten vannfe" which is Norwegian for "little water fairy," and is a reference to her namesake from the poem "Sabrina Fair."


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff and more random pop-culture references.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought we were all long-overdue for some 100% fluff, tropes and all. Also, huge-ass TL;DR from me at the end.

“How can you stand this _filth_?” he asked in bewilderment.

“How can you _not_?” she gleefully replied.

Loki had long lost count of the number of times he and Brynn had held this exchange, which ceased to be rhetorical within the first five minutes of _Jersey Shore._ Hours of binge-watching later, he was shocked his brain had not started oozing out of his ears.

The night before, after he finished modifying his daggers – opting to transform them into feathers rather than coconuts – he and Brynn had left the viewing lounge together and returned to her chambers. She fell asleep almost immediately, and he occupied himself with a few menial tasks before joining her in bed.

He had quickly drifted off but was woken up not long after by Brynn, who confessed that she been dreaming of Sammy and was afraid to go back to sleep. Loki drowsily brought her into his arms and began telling her stories of the scrapes he and Thor had gotten into as boys to distract her.

His tale of trying to burn Thor at the stake set them both to laughing so hard that they both were soon wide awake, and sleep was forgotten. Bored, Brynn had seized Stark’s tablet from the nightstand and informed Loki that it was time to commence his crash course in pop culture.

Thus far, he was most ungrateful for her tutelage.

Episode upon episode of overdressed, catty hausfraus; imbeciles who agreed to not only spend a month exposed to the elements, but do so in the _nude;_ would-be singers whose vocals ranged from tolerable to torturous; men and women alike competing for flora as a means to an end in the pursuit of matrimony –

(Having been the victim of several attempts at arranged marriages in his youth, Loki was secretly following the machinations of _The Bachelor_ and _The Bachelorette_ with great interest, but feigned indifference when Brynn asked if he wanted to watch _Deal or No Deal_ instead.)

It was awful. Every last 1080p, commercial-free bit of it. Tabloids, he enjoyed, but this was torment and he saw no end to the onslaught of digital tripe, as the tablet contained a terabyte’s-worth of pre-loaded media. (He had stealthily destroyed the device’s internet receiver, and Brynn was too excited about catching up on three years’ worth of missed reality TV to care.)

Adding insult to injury, Brynn was not the least bit interested when Loki conjured a floor-to-ceiling a projection of the Bifrost and suggested taking her on a tour.

“Woman, I am trying to show you the Realm Eternal,” he complained when she shoved his arm out of the way from where he had been trying to point out Heimdall’s observatory.

They were sitting side-by-side in bed, sharing a bag of microwaved popcorn, the tablet resting across their both their laps.

“And _I’m_ trying to show you _Project Runway,”_ Brynn snapped, “And if the Realm Eternal is really eternal, it’ll still be around for you to show me later. Now be quiet.”

“At least pick something else,” Loki groused. “These abominations in fashion are nothing short of criminal.”

“Says the man who combines leather and velvet on the regular.”

This drew a laugh from him. “You are hardly one to talk,” he teased as he helped himself to the last of the popcorn.

Brynn glanced up from where she had been scrolling through an alphabetized list of films categorized as _Fantasy_. One of the titles caught Loki’s attention and he casually reached over with his free hand, tapping the screen to bring up the movie synopsis.

“What do you mean?” she asked, picking her soda up from the nightstand.

Loki shrugged. “I’ve yet to see you in anything but multi-pocketed trousers, running gear, or your nightclothes.”

The film’s poster appeared on the screen.

“Whatever, _Clinton.”_ Brynn took a swallow of soda and then wrinkled her nose, briefly looking down at the bottle before returning her gaze to Loki. “Why do you look so mad?”

He was scowling at an image of an exquisite woman with crimson lips and ink-black horns protruding from her head.

“No reason,” he muttered. He brought the tablet onto his lap and opened the search box.

“Hey, did you do something to my Diet Coke?” he heard Brynn ask as he started scanning the tablet’s library for anything containing the names Ludo, Hellboy, or Severus. “It tastes different.”

“I removed the caffeine.”

“Wh – why?!” She glared at him, outraged. “And _how?_ You know they make an official caffeine-free version, right?”

“You mentioned needing to avoid stimulants until your breakthrough seizures cease; magic; I do; and based upon my reading, the manufacturer’s method of extraction does not, in fact, remove one hundred percent of the caffeine.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Loki spotted Brynn trying to edge away from him and off the bed.

“Your Pike Place has been replaced with decaf,” he said, knowing precisely in what direction she was headed.

Her head whipped around, eyes narrowed to slits. “Real decaf? Or your ensorcelled version of it?”

“Mine.” He was scowling again, having found the movie poster for _Hellboy._ “I took the liberty of brewing myself a cup before coming to bed; I think you shall find it to be perfectly satisfactory.”

“Loki, your version of ‘perfectly satisfactory’ coffee qualifies as sludge for normal people.”

“Then I think you shall find it to be perfectly satisfactory sludge.”

Brynn slammed her bottle of not-Diet Coke down on the nightstand, livid. “Did you mess with my chocolate stash, too?” she demanded. “’Cause that’s grounds for divorce.”

“Even I know there are some boundaries that are not to be crossed, _mistenkelig liten dronning,"_ he retorted.

His stomach dropped a moment later when his brain registered the words he had just spoken – _suspicious little queen._

Loki hastily passed the tablet back to Brynn, blank-faced. He had been taking care to keep such fantasies buried deep within his heart, but these foolish dreams persisted in getting ahead of him, far too quickly…and far beyond reason.

Beside him, Brynn was still grumbling, savagely prodding the tablet as she returned to the home screen and started scrolling through a list of films.

“We are not watching _Sharknado_ ,” Loki said flatly, reading over her shoulder.

“You don’t even know what it’s about!”

“And I prefer to remain ignorant.”

Brynn rolled her eyes. “Fine, _you_ pick.”

She tossed the tablet onto his lap and then hopped out of bed to go investigate what remained of her coffee and chocolate.

Loki began mindlessly scrolling through action films, only-half reading the titles as they flew across the screen.

_Lucy…X-Men: Days of Future Past…John Wick…_

“What variety are you making?” he asked when he heard Brynn start to unwrap another package of popcorn.

“Sorcerer’s choice,” she answered. “What sounds good?”

He did not look up. “Do you have any more of the kind with ocean seasoning?”

“Um…do you mean sea salt?”

“Yes, sea salt.”

Loki chose to ignore Brynn’s snickering as she started heating the bag of popcorn.

The air was quickly filled with the delectable scent of buttered sea salt, and his stomach growled in response. He had to give humanity credit where it was due – no one on Asgard would have thought to make a delicacy out of freshly-exploded whole grains.

_Need for Speed…Taken 3…Maze Runner…_

The microwave beeped.

_Edge of Tomorrow…Divergent…Non-Stop…The Equalizer…Transformers: Age of Extinction…Big Hero 6…_

_“Stop!”_ Brynn shrieked.

Loki was at her side in a flash, flying from the bed with preternatural speed and over to where she stood by the microwave, still holding the steaming-hot bag of popcorn.

“Are you in pain?” he cried, running both hands down her arms and looking her over for signs of burns.

“No!” Brynn squirmed halfway out of his grip and strained an arm around him, desperately pointing to the tablet where it had landed on the floor. “They made another _Transformers_ movie! See if it’s got Shia LeBeouf in it, he’s amazing, I want to watch that one next!”

One hand still on her shoulder, Loki stoically looked over to the tablet, which had landed-face up.

A film poster depicting a roaring, robotic dinosaur was displayed on the screen.

He dragged his eyes back over to Brynn, who was starting to climb over him in her excitement to finally watch the fourth installment of _Transformers._

The tablet vanished.

“Wait, what –”

Loki neatly plucked the popcorn bag out of Brynn’s hands, bent at the knee, and with his opposite arm reached around her hips and heaved her over one shoulder.

 _“Hey!”_ she bellowed.

He ignored her and proceeded to march back to the bed, taking the time to set the popcorn aside before swinging Brynn down and catching her in both arms in one easy motion.

“To quote your illustrious Howard Mandel,” he purred as he began lowering her onto the mattress, “let’s _make a deal.”_

“’Kay,” she gasped, startled.

Wearing his wickedest smile, Loki moved to sit on the edge of the bed and leaned over her, planting his palms on either side of her head.

Brynn looked up at him nervously.

“I will permit you to continue subjecting me to this digital trash,” he informed her, leaning forward, “but only in exchange for…”

He allowed his voice to trail off and cocked his head, making a show of studying her thoughtfully.

“Earth to Howie,” Brynn said impatiently when he did not continue, “Are you going for some kind of a dramatic pause here, or are you still thinking?”

He leaned down further and bent his head to her ear, deliberately allowing his mouth to graze her cheek as he whispered, “In exchange for…a kiss.”

Her heartbeat began beating so erratically that Loki heard when its rhythm changed. 

Pleased, he drew back and gazed down upon Brynn, eyes boring hungrily into hers.

“Deal or no deal, _min kjærlighet?”_

Her lips parted as she struggled to come up with a response. She was trying valiantly to remain aloof, but when Loki saw the flush of her cheeks, he knew he had her spellbound – or so he thought.

The set of her chin grew stubborn.

“Deal,” she said. She still looked dazed but nevertheless managed to throw in an impudent, “Does this please the banker?”

“Oh, _lille_ _smådjevel,”_ he chuckled, bending down towards her once more, “it pleases him _very_ much.”

Loki was too busy marveling over this unexpected good fortune to spot the conniving gleam that had come into Brynn’s eyes as he continued to draw closer. The only thought occupying his mind were her lips, and how they would look, rosy and slightly puffy, after he finished kissing her thoroughly, and possibly ravishing the rest of her as well, if she seemed so inclined.

Their faces were separated by only millimeters when her hand suddenly clapped over his mouth.

 _“Sharknado_ first,” he heard her say.

Loki uttered a muffled curse into her palm, and Brynn quickly added, _“And_ you have to tell me whatever that means.”

He tossed his head free of her hand with a huff.

“If I thought for one moment that you would permit me to court you _properly_ , I would provide you a complete _lexicon_ of Aesir profanities,” he spat.

He flopped down onto the bed beside her and draped his arm over his eyes, irritated that she had managed to best him at his own game.

 _“Court_ me?” he heard Brynn say. “What is this, the Middle Ages?”

“No,” Loki smirked into his elbow, “the women in that era were far more obedient.”

“Poor you.”

“Indeed.”

The blood in his veins had only just started to cool when Brynn pounced on top of him and playfully straddled his hips – and proceeded to burst into giggles as Loki tried to shift away, in hopes of concealing the faint stiffening that had not yet abated in his pants.

“Problems?” she queried innocently, immediately cluing into the issue. This did not take keen perceptive skills on her part, as their positioning was further aggravating Loki’s state at a rather exponential rate.

“Possibly,” he protested, “lest you injure the _results_ of your disobedience – ” His words ended in a strangled grunt; she had reached down and groped him.

“Oh,” Brynn started stroking him through the fabric of his trousers, “you mean these results?”

“Wh-what are you doing?” Loki sputtered.

“Teaching you a lesson.”

“And wh – _gods_ – why am I in need of –”

She deftly slid her hand beneath the waistband of his pants and continued on with her merciless ministrations.

Loki stared up at her helplessly. Brynn had removed her bra prior to going to bed, the room was chilly, the thin cotton of her top left little to the imagination, he could already feel a coiling sensation beginning to build in his groin, and if she kept this up much longer, he would spill in her hand like a pubescent boy…

She was experimenting now, changing pressure and speed based on his reactions; Loki cursed a second time, clenching the sheets as his eyes reflexively squeezed shut.

“What’s ‘filthy little minx’ in Old Norse?”

“I – don’t – know,” he gritted.

Brynn gave him more one long, glorious stroke and then leaned down close, holding her hand in place between his thighs.

Loki’s eyes flew open.

“Fix my soda and my coffee,” she told him.

“No,” he gasped, “that was not part of the deal –”

She gripped him, hard.

“I yield,” he groaned.

Brynn kissed the tip of his nose and released him.

“You might want to take care of that before we start _Transformers,”_ she dryly remarked, nodding her head in the direction of Loki’s crotch as she climbed off of him. Smirking, she picked up the bag of popcorn and moved to sit beside him.

He glowered at her, panting, flushed and fuming. Brynn matched him scowl-for-scowl until she finally threw a handful of popcorn in his face.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she exclaimed as Loki grouchily brushed crumbles out of his eyes, “there’s not much that can kill the mood faster than your partner having an absence seizure just as things start getting frisky between the sheets.” The humor in her eyes dulled, but her voice remained firm as she finished, “I haven’t had sex in three years. I’d rather stay conscious and enjoy the experience from start to finish.”

“As would I,” Loki concurred tightly, “but _this,”_ he threw a furious glance in the direction of his nether regions, “belies your prior claims about not being a tease.”

“Oh, that wasn’t teasing, babe,” Brynn laughed. “That was a preview of coming attractions.”

Her declaration – along with the nickname, and the implications that came with both – only worsened his arousal.

“Are you certain you were not a succubus in a previous life?” he accused. She was sitting by his hip, facing him, and he propped himself up on his elbows in order to glare at her more effectively.

Brynn flicked a piece of popcorn at his still-tented trousers.

“I don’t even know what a succubus is,” she said sweetly. “Is it a space snorkel?”

Loki started to make a retort, but she looked so shamelessly pleased with herself that he found himself having to put genuine effort into staying annoyed. He had never seen her so carefree and uninhibited, and he was eager to coax out more of this side of her.

“What in the Nine Realms has gotten into you, Brynn Nolan?” he wondered aloud as he sank back against the pillow.

She grinned at him. “Xanax.”

He knew this name...

Frowning, he studied her more closely.

Brynn no longer seemed in danger of being seduced, he observed, but her pupils remained dilated and she looked…loopy.

Loki felt a surge of disappointment but managed to conceal it.

“This drug,” he said slowly, “it serves to alleviate anxiety but has the effect of making one act out of character, correct?”

“It lowers inhibitions,” Brynn admitted, “but it doesn’t make you…”

She stopped speaking.

Eager to hear more, Loki went to prompt her but stopped when he realized she was experiencing another breakthrough seizure. She had reassured him these symptoms were not uncommon, but this knowledge made them no less disconcerting.

Or, as she had so aptly put it, mood-killing.

“…feel things that aren’t already there, if that’s what you’re asking,” Brynn finished a few seconds later.

She was looking at him sheepishly, unaware that she had drifted off mid-sentence.

An unbidden smile began to tug at Loki’s mouth as her words slowly sank in.

“Why did you take it?” he wanted to know.

“I’m maxed out,” she said simply. “It’s been a bad week. It’s been a lot of bad weeks, and you’re the only good thing in them.” Brynn sighed and picked up his hand. “Like I said the other day,” she started to trace random designs in his palm with her fingertips, “only one of us gets to be the headcase. It’s your turn right now. I’m always raw after a counseling session, and what you shared last night was…”

Loki looked to the ceiling, expressionless. He never wanted to speak of his behavior from the previous night. He had been raised better than to succumb to such -- such utter  _weakness._ He was a prince, a king. No son of Odin – or Laufey – should be so _soft_ as to sob themselves sick, let alone do so in the presence of another.

“It was traumatic,” Brynn continued quietly. “And I knew the only way I could help you fight your demons was if I did something to shut mine up for a little while.”

The black-paneled ceiling grew blurry.

Had there been any doubts in Loki’s mind before that his heart would be forever lost to Brynn, they were gone now, stripped away, along with the armor he had built up so carefully around his heart over the centuries. Lovers and friends, he had experienced. But in all his years, never had he had a partner. Someone who, of their own volition, and seeking no personal gain or favor, put him first.

Her words had laid him bare.

“Thank you, my lady,” he whispered, not speaking until he was certain his voice would remain steady.

Brynn tended to complain whenever he lapsed into using courtly language, but she only squeezed his hand and refrained from teasing.

“So,” she said, taking a deep breath, “now that I’ve officially turned this into the bigger downer party in the history of mankind,” her tone grew brisk, “answer me this: Were you actually here during the Middle Ages?”

Loki dropped his gaze away from the ceiling and turned his head to look at Brynn. She was trying to cheer him up, and he managed to return her hopeful smile.  

“The last time we spoke of my age, it reduced you to tears,” he reminded her. He grasped her wrist, sliding one hand up her arm as he drew her down to him. “I do not care to repeat the experience.”

“No, no,” Brynn insisted, “I’m fine. You’re older than dirt, blah blah.” She folded her arms against his chest and laid her head down, peering at him sideways. “But, really, _were_ you here during the Middle Ages?”

“A fair bit, yes,” Loki admitted. He lifted a hand and began to toy with a strand of her hair.

“Get the tablet,” Brynn suggested suddenly. She sat back up. “There’s a documentary about the Middle Ages I think you’d like. It’s really famous.”

This piqued his interest, and the tablet flashed back into existence on the bed. Brynn picked it up and began searching for the title, absently humming to herself.

“I did not know you had such an interest in history,” he said, watching her.

“I usually don’t,” she shrugged as she cued up the movie, “but this one brings the story to life. If you like it, there’s another about Ancient Rome that was produced by the same group of historians.”

Dramatic orchestral music started to play.

“Bend your knee up,” she requested, “this thing doesn’t have a kick stand.”

Loki did so, and Brynn set the tablet on his stomach, resting it propped-up against his thigh.

“You don’t care to watch?” he asked her as she started to lie back down beside him.

She shook her head, fighting a yawn. “I’ve seen it a ton of times. I’ll just listen.”

They made themselves comfortable as the film’s opening credits started, Loki folding one arm behind his head against the pillow, the other around Brynn, who draped herself half-over him, one leg curled up around his.

“The individual tasked with translating this text had an appalling grasp of linguistics,” he remarked, reading the subtitles.

“Really? What’s wrong with the translation?”

“Other than it not being actual Swedish?”

He felt her shrug. “You’d know better than me; I only know English and conversational Spanish.”

Several more subtitles flashed by.

Frowning, Loki gave Brynn a nudge. _“Liten vannfe.”_

“Mm?”

“Who is Richard M. Nixon?”

“Former US president.”

“Why was he compelled to sign off on a disclaimer for this documentary?”

“Um, I think it’s a requirement of the office?”

Loki mulled this over. Brynn's answer seemed perfectly sensible. This was, after all, a historical re-enactment, he reasoned, and given that the creators had no means of physically going back in time, it was not surprising that there would be inaccuracies abound. An attestation of these inaccuracies, coming from a prominent figurehead, would be appropriate so as to not mislead the audience.  

Satisfied, he returned his attention to the tablet.

“I do not recall moose playing such a prominent role in Europe during this time,” Loki muttered a little while later.

“Maybe you were in a different part of Europe?”

“True,” he admitted; his travels had been primarily limited to Scandinavia.

Loki’s expression grew progressively more baffled, however, as the documentary progressed through the first scene. It was mid-way through the film’s second scene – a bizarre depiction of a village suffering from an outbreak of plague, and the means in which they disposed of the corpses – when he could not longer continue suspending his disbelief.

_“Bring out your dead…(clang)…Bring out your dead…(clang)…ROWR…”_

He turned off the tablet and looked down at Brynn accusingly. She was pretending to be asleep and doing an extremely poor job of it.

“I know you are awake,” he told her.

Brynn feigned a yawn and moved to prop herself up on her elbow in order to look at him. “What?”

“To use your phrasing,” Loki held up the tablet in one hand, "’fess up.”

“’Fess up what?” she asked him brightly. “It wasn’t like that in the Middle Ages?”

“It was decidedly _not_ like that in the Middle Ages,” he retorted. “Either Richard M. Nixon was an imbecile, or you think me to be one.”

Her eyes grew wide and innocent. “Uh-oh. Have I displeased the banker?”

The indulgent smile Loki had been wearing curved into something just short of a leer. Brynn possessed enough sense to realize he had her in his sights, but it was too late. He was about to seize the upper hand and they both knew it.

“You have displayed the banker very, very much, _min ugudelige lille fe,_ _”_ he informed her, voice dropping into a velvety rumble.  

He was on top of her a second later, pinning her beneath him in a single blinding roll, and brought his face so close to hers that they were almost nose-to-nose.

“Did – did you just sneeze,” she stammered, “or was that another nickname?”

Loki could feel her heart beating wildly against his chest and bent his head lower, lips gliding down her cheek as he went.

“My wicked little fairy,” he breathed in her ear, “My wicked, _lovely_ little fairy.”

“Oh, God,” he heard Brynn gasp.

Involuntarily or not, her knees parted to allow him to settle between her legs, and Loki knew whatever quota of self-restraint she had drawn upon earlier was gone.

“Problems?”

“Nope,” her firm denial escalated into a squeak as Loki began to leave a trail of soft kisses down the side of her neck, “all good…here…”

“Excellent,” he started in on the other side of Brynn’s neck, giving a leisurely roll of his hips as he went – and grinned to himself when he heard her respond with a not-quite-inaudible moan

“Do you recall,” he said conversationally, “showing me your preview of coming attractions?”

He hooked the neckline of her shirt down with a finger and nuzzled the underside of her jaw before starting to kiss his way down to her collarbone.

 “No,” she panted, “I don’t remember anything.”

“Oh, come now, dear, it was only a few minutes ago.”

The tank top Brynn had been wearing under her shirt vanished and was replaced by Loki’s other hand.  

“Yes, goddammit, I remember!”

“There’s no need to get so excited, _liten vannfe,”_ he chided, speaking into her skin, “I simply wish to return the favor.”

Brynn’s breathing grew unsteady as Loki cupped her breast and pressed a careful kiss to the soft curve of flesh just peeking out from the top of her shirt.

“What are you talking about?” Her voice was a shaky rasp. “What favor?”

He eased forward, taking his time, pushing off on one arm as he went in order to lift himself back over her. She watched his every move as he drew nearer, mesmerized by this irresistible version of cat-and-mouse.

Loki's trickster’s smile returned. She was the most beautiful prey he had ever held in his sights.

He dipped his head and gently brushed his mouth against Brynn’s with a feather-light touch -- not a kiss, but a gesture no less intimate. Then, eyes not leaving hers, he murmured into her lips, “Consider this _my_ preview,” before sharply grinding his hips into her.

Her soft cry of surprise was the sweetest music ever to reach his ears. She curled into him, pressing her face into his neck and breathing hard. 

"I yield," Loki heard her mumble. 

"I didn't quite hear you, darling. What was that?"

 _"I yield!"_ Brynn repeated, this time fairly yelling into his ear -- and then dissolved into peals of breathless laughter when Loki dumped the rest of the popcorn on top of her head and wrestled her down into the sheets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. Please tell me you figured out the name of the "documentary!" 
> 
> I’m doing word-for-word translations of anything in Norwegian. There is no grammar. 
> 
> The “biggest downer party in the history of mankind” line was lifted from between-song-commentary by the incomparable Mary Prankster during one of her live recordings. 
> 
> Wall of text: 
> 
> I’ve come up with a way to turn You’ve Got Sucker’s Luck into original fiction. Unfortunately adapting fanfiction into original works is held in extremely low esteem in the publishing world – the thought is that if the new work was inspired by fandom or adapted from fanfiction, then it is not truly an original work. (Fifty Shades of Grey being a classic example.) I buy some of that argument, but from what I can tell, all of the held-in-disdain pull-to-publish examples I found don’t appear to have any OC protagonists, the fics already had a fanbase in the thousands, not to mention massive reader engagement where followers were posting back-and-forth suggestions or making requests for future scenes they wanted the author to write – none of which apply here. 
> 
> I seriously wrestled with whether to put the fic on permanent hiatus. Brynn was an established character in my head prior to starting Sucker’s Luck, and I’m worried that every word I write will only further blur the lines between my own ideas and the Avengers/Thor fandom. But Marvel doesn’t own character archetypes, inspiration does not happen in a vacuum, and hell, if Norse mythology had been in the public domain back in the 60s, technically Stan Lee’s work with Thor could be considered some variety of fanfiction. 
> 
> So – I am going to finish this story. But in the interest of being fully transparent, if (and that’s a big, BIG if) I end up writing an original story, there will be parallels. The premise is the same (deity/alien comes to earth, falls for a widow, finds out he was involved in the death of her husband, shit ensues), and while I am already focused on different world building and new characters, I would be a lying liar who lies if I claimed New Story would not be heavily influenced by this one. 
> 
> Will new male protagonist use liten vannfe as a pet name for new female protagonist? Probably. Why? Because I think it’s fucking adorable. Am I going to rewrite Nick Fury as a woman or otherwise adapt existing Marvel characters? No. Why? Because Nick Fury is Marvel’s, and I know enough batty people in my own life to draw upon in creating new OCs. Case in point: My mother-in-law. She is a combination of Judge Judy and Southern-style Lucille Bluth from Arrested Development, and could eat Thanos and Nick Fury for breakfast with a side of country gravy. 
> 
> Example:  
>  __  
> Nick: Thanos! Please put down the gauntlet!
> 
> _MIL: (aside to Nick) Honey, that boy’s all eat up with dumbass. There ain’t no point in trying to talk sense to him; he don’t know where he shit last. (Raising voice) Thanita! You get yourself over here and take that tin can glove off right now. Don’t make me do it for you!_
> 
> _Nick: (horrified) Ma’am, wait, you don’t understand, the destructive power of the infinity stones –_  
> 
> _MIL: (laughs) God love your heart, you mean those tacky little chips of glass he’s got on? Blue-light special at Kmart. Ruth’s got a whole set of ’em back home, likes to show them off every time there’s a funeral. Prances around like she’s the queen of Sheba – hang on, that overgrown little purple shit's ignoring me. Hold my drink, would you? And don’t you drink it, now, that’s got more than just water in it._  
> 
> _Nick: (realizes he has just been handed a Tervis tumbler filled with Beefeater’s, ice, and seltzer, and that it is 5 o’clock somewhere in the Sanctuary)_  
> 
> _MIL: Thanita! Don’t think I won’t make you cut your own switch! I don’t care if there ain’t a tree around for miles, this nice man here is wearing a belt and I will use it!_  
> 
> _Nick: …_
> 
> _MIL: Say, honey, have you had that eye looked at?_  
> 
> _Nick: I appreciate the concern, ma’am, but I don’t see how that’s really relevant –_  
> 
> _MIL: (pats his arm) Well, I’m gonna pray on it._  
>  Anyway...I welcome anyone’s input on the issue, because I am still torn on what to do. Everyone I've spoken to seems to be of the belief I am massively overthinking things, but I have no objective parties to consult. I'd love to know what other people think or if there is some kind of general consensus on the matter, so if you've got insights or opinions, please reach out.
> 
> I HAS A [TUMBLR](https://wrathkitty.tumblr.com/).


	22. At the Still Point of the Turning World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Real-life note from me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this isn't a real update.

I started writing  _Sucker’s Luck_  in December of 2013. I was reeling from a miscarriage, and like many writers who imbue their characters with aspects of themselves, and place those characters in situations that mirror their own lives, I used the loss of Brynn and Sammy’s baby as a means of working through my own grief. It was trauma I had experienced, and so writing those aspects in the fic never felt disingenuous. 

Widowhood, of course, was an abstract concept. No one in my peer group had gone through such a loss, and up until recently, my knowledge of losing a spouse has been limited to what I have seen in films, read in novels, and students I’ve worked with who have lost parents. And while I recognize it’s not reasonable to hold a writer to the standard of “only write what you really,  _really_ know,” I have always felt a vague sense of hypocrisy writing Brynn’s experiences of being a widow given that hers is a trauma I myself have never lived through or personally witnessed.

One of my childhood friends will be losing her husband to colorectal cancer in the next few days. They are not that much older than Brynn and Sammy, and they have a six-year-old little girl -- and compounding this agony is the fact my friend lost her own father to cancer at the same age. He’s had the terminal diagnosis for more than a year now, but the chemo stopped working and his decline over the last month has been rapid.

What my friend is facing has made that plot line in  _Sucker’s Luck_  too real for me right now. I can’t reconcile trying to be there to support her and her daughter, all the while knowing that I’m using widowhood as a plot device in a story I’m writing. Yes, that plot line was developed years before her husband was diagnosed, but at this moment in time, continuing to work on the fic feels vaguely exploitative.

This post is not intended to be an official fic-is-on hiatus announcement -- I am going to finish Brynn and Loki’s story. The next chapter is 90% written. But there may be radio silence from me for the next little while, and I wanted to explain why.

 _At the still point of the turning world. Neither flesh nor fleshless;_  
_Neither from nor towards; at the still point, there the dance is,_  
_But neither arrest nor movement. And do not call it fixity,_  
_Where past and future are gathered. Neither movement from nor towards,_  
_Neither ascent nor decline. Except for the point, the still point,_  
_There would be no dance, and there is only the dance._  
_I can only say, there we have been: but I cannot say where._  
_And I cannot say, how long, for that is to place it in time._

_-T.S. Eliot_


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I hit "post without preview" by accident and then took the chapter down because I hadn't proofread any of it. So for those of you who caught the un-proofed version -- oops? And for those of you who got the email alert that there was a new chapter and then suddenly there wasn't, I'm sorry!  
> :(

Fury set the tablet down on the table and leaned forward on his elbows, hands clasped before him, face impassive as he silently regarded his other two companions in the expansive conference room.

Across from him sat Loki and Banner, the former wearing an expression equally inscrutable, the latter making no attempt to conceal his concern. They had just finished debriefing the Director on the data Stark had stumbled upon in SHIELD’s logs. Fury had yet to make any comment and practiced as Loki was in reading nonverbal cues, he had not been able to gauge the man’s reaction as he and Banner explained the situation.

The Director finally turned his gaze to Loki and spoke.

“How do I know this isn’t some kind of scheme you’ve concocted?”

Loki suppressed an eyeroll; this business of constantly having to convince everyone he telling the truth was growing tiresome. Unsurprising, given his reputation as the Liesmith, but still…tiresome.

“As I told Dr. Banner and Stark yesterday,” he replied stiffly, “I have no proof. What sits before you is the only evidence in our possession.”

A brief glaring contest ensued between both men until Fury broke eye contact and reached for the tablet once more, taking another glance at the compilation of dates and amperage spikes. He drummed his fingers once, then twice on the table, before decisively setting the tablet aside to sit back in his chair.

“We have a rule in the scientific community here on Earth,” he casually remarked, addressing Loki, “Maybe you’ve got something similar back at home – might’ve heard of it before. _Correlation does not equal causation._ Right now, this,” he nodded towards the tablet, “seems like a one big-ass correlation. One huge, _convenient,_ big-ass correlation. And contrary to whatever impression I might have left you with, I am not an idiot.” Voice hardening, he challenged, “You don’t like Dr. Ives, and you haven’t been subtle about it. How do I know you haven’t done something to rig all this up in order to get her out of the picture?”

“My fabricating such data serves no purpose,” Loki’s irritation was thinly-veiled and beginning to mount, “Ives is the culprit. Debating the matter further is a waste of time.”

“Again,” Fury retorted, “not an idiot. You fabricating the data serves a lot of purpose.”

“Pray, enlighten me.” Loki, also not-an-idiot, was perfectly aware of the Director’s implied line of thinking, but he wanted to hear him say it outright.

“I’ve been collecting some data of my own,” Fury informed him. “Heat signatures. You might’ve thought you and Sabrina were out of sight this whole time, but every single security camera we’ve got on this boat records in infrared. You’re spending hours a day together – and at night.”

Loki immediately interpreted this comment as an attempt to besmirch Brynn’s virtue and started to bristle, but the Director went on, “Which tells me one of two things: Either you’ve either done a _profound_ one-eighty on your opinion of humanity, or you’re using Sabrina for your own means.”

_Wrong, and wrong._

Fury continued, “Much as I’d love to know we’ve been elevated beyond the status of the ant —”

_Also wrong._

“Again,” this time Fury pointed to himself, “Not an idiot.”

_Very, very wrong._

Loki’s mouth curved into a serpentine smile. “I am delighted to tell you that you are incorrect…on every count.”

His jab was not lost upon Fury, who smirked.

“Be that as it may, it’s going to take more than this,” he tapped the tablet, “to convince me. Whether you like it or not, the burden of proof is on you here, Mr. Laufeyson. For all I know, you waved your magic wand and hacked our data logs to show Dr. Ives is guilty.”

“Had I done such a thing, there would have been no wands involved,” Loki sniffed. Who did Fury think he was? The boy wizard? “Frankly, you should be asking the same question of Stark. He ‘hacked’ your data logs in a matter of seconds.”

Banner had been watching these proceedings in silence from his seat beside Loki, but he now found reason to speak up.

“Here,” he said suddenly, taking his iPhone out of his pocket. He unlocked it and offered it to Loki. “Try changing the background picture. Use one of the phone’s pre-loaded wallpapers.”

Loki looked at him askance, not liking the amused smile that had started playing about his face.

“Why?”

“Just change the background picture to one of the pre-loaded wallpapers,” repeated the scientist.

A scheme of some kind was obviously at play, but the task sounded simple enough. Loki haughtily took the phone in hand and began thumbing through the screens, searching for an app entitled “Background Picture.”

Finding none with that epithet, he returned to the home screen, selected “Settings,” and resumed his search, but again, to no avail.

Feeling more the fool with every passing second, Loki then started searching the application settings one-by-one. This approach accomplished nothing but taking him on a daisy-chain hunt throughout the entire menu, which was extensive and consisted primarily of relaxation apps, and, oddly enough, a game that involved destroying digital confectioneries.

Banner, damn him, had anticipated the possibility that Loki had no knowledge of the appearance of the iPhone’s “pre-loaded wallpapers,” thus preventing him from bluffing his way to the solution and enchanting the phone to display the correct image.

Loki finally looked up, an acerbic frown darkening his features as he glared at Banner, who seemed to be fighting a smile. “Is this a trick?” he demanded.

Banner turned to Fury. “Convinced?”

The Director did not bother trying to hide his satisfaction at the sight of Loki being subjugated by iOS 9.0.

“Looks like those magazines might be more your speed,” he deadpanned.

Loki shot him a withering scowl and passed the phone back to Banner. Had he not needed the man as an ally, Fury would have been wearing a frog for an eyepatch. Permanently.

The Director had been sitting with his chair angled towards the table, but now he swiveled forward to face Banner head-on.

“Dr. Banner, I’d like for _you_ to tell me why you’re convinced,” he told him.

The mirth in Banner’s face faded at the surprise of having such a question sprung upon him. He drew in a breath, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled for formulate a response.

“I trust Tony,” he said after some thought. He was choosing his words with care, knowing that his answer would dictate Fury’s next move. “He’d know if the logs had been hacked. I know his methods drive you crazy,” he added, “but _you_ know he’d know if they had been hacked, and if they had, he would’ve blasted Loki right out of the lab. He hates him,” Banner gestured to Loki, “but the data lines up with his story.”

“Even when you consider the source?” Fury pressed.

“Yeah,” he said simply. “What we found isn’t up to subjective interpretation. If SHIELD had known to go looking for it, your guys would’ve come to the same conclusion, too.”

Fury’s expression made a gradual shift from disbelief to grudging acceptance as he listened, and Loki could feel the tension that had been steadily rising since the start of their meeting begin to ebb. The Director spent some time considering the implications of this harsh new reality after Banner fell silent, weighing what he had just learned within the context of information to which only he was privy.

At last he rubbed his chin and leaned back in his chair, arms grimly folded across his chest.

“This is a big motherfucking mess, gentlemen,” he observed.

And with that remark, Loki realized that, like it or not, he was now part of the team.

“How do you suggest we proceed?” Fury inquired, directing the question to both Loki and Banner.

“We need to tell Sabrina what’s going on,” Banner replied quickly. He sounded remorseful that the information had been kept from her in the first place. “We should’ve told her yesterday.”

Nodding in agreement, Fury glanced over to Loki. “Where is she right now?”

“In her chambers, I believe, most likely glued to Stark’s tablet,” he answered. “She was watching a documentary about the idols of America when I last saw her.”

Banner turned in his chair to face Loki, looking baffled. “You know she’s not supposed to have internet access, right?” he reminded him. “Aren’t you a little worried she’s going to look you up online?”

“The device’s internet receiver met an untimely end,” Loki shrugged, wholly unconcerned. “Shoddy workmanship on Stark’s part, clearly.”

Fury peered at him suspiciously. Tony Stark was capable of many things, but shoddy workmanship was not on the list.

“What did you do – you know what, never mind. I don’t want to know.” He glanced over at Banner. “Is there a way to patch into her tablet and send a message that we need to talk to her?”

_“Yes, Director.”_

All three men whipped around to look at the flush-mounted speaker installed in the center of the conference table.

 _“I’ve just notified Ms. Nolan that her presence is requested in the primary conference room,”_ continued the disembodied voice. _“She should be arriving shortly.”_

“JARVIS?” Banner repeated, flummoxed by this unexpected, invisible addition to their party; Loki was no less confused, but Fury’s face had become a study in outrage, and he wanted to savor every moment. “Is that you?”

 _“It is, Dr. Banner,”_ JARVIS was saying, _“It is good to see you, sir.”_

“When did you get here?” he exclaimed. “Tony didn’t say he had – uh, brought you with him.”

_“Mr. Stark uploaded a remote mirror of my program when he accessed SHIELD’s mainframe yesterday.”_

“Uploaded where?” Fury demanded, having finally found his voice. “To this room?”

_“And several other locations as well, Director.”_

Fury’s expression darkened. “Define several,” he ordered, speaking through clenched teeth.

_“Throughout the ship, sir.”_

_“What!”_ Fury shot out of his chair and planted both hands flat on the table, looming over the speaker. “You mean Stark uploaded you into the whole goddamn Helicarrier?”

_“That is correct, sir. I apologize, Director; I did advise him against doing so, but he insisted.”_

“ _De_ -upload your ass back wherever you came from,” Fury barked, “and tell your boss if he tries this shit again, I’ll see to it that he spends the next five fucking years stuck in Congressional hearings.”

_“I shall convey the message at once, Director. May I quote you directly?”_

“I’ll be pissed if you don’t.”

_“Excellent, sir. Until next time.”_

The AI departed and the room fell silent. Banner and Loki watched the Director sank back into his chair, appearing as if he was feeling the beginnings of an acute headache.

Perhaps he needed a Xanax.

Several minutes of painful silence elapsed; growing bored, Loki finally inquired, “Who is JARVIS?”

Banner looked relieved that someone had broken the quiet and answered, “Tony’s right-hand man. And digital babysitter.”

Brynn stormed through the conference room doors right at that moment, bringing further discussion about Stark’s AI to an end. She was out of breath, evidently having come in a hurry, and halted mid-step when she saw Fury, Banner, and Loki seated together at the table.

The blood drained from her face, and for a moment Loki thought she might faint, but she remained steady on her feet and looked straight to the Director.

“Who’s dead?” she demanded.

“No one,” he said shortly, “Yet.” He nodded to the chair adjacent to Loki and added, “Have a seat.”

A bit of color returned to her cheeks, and her expression grew scornful.

“Good to see you too, _Dad,”_ she replied belligerently. “Am I in trouble?”

“You _are_ trouble,” Fury retorted. “This is a briefing. Your security clearance just got upgraded.”

“Oh, yippie shit,” Brynn scoffed, unimpressed. “A briefing for what? We both know you never tell me anything.”

“Just. Sit,” he said tightly.

Loki watched this interplay with some interest, recalling his first encounter with them both when he initially arrived on the Helicarrier. For whatever reason, Brynn and Fury seemed to bring out the worst in the other, one reverting into the persona of recalcitrant teen, and the other taking on the mien of a long-suffering teacher who harbored secret fantasies of failing every pupil the morning of graduation day.

Banner, apparently well-accustomed these exchanges – and the impact they had upon his stress levels – took out his phone and opened _Candy Crush_.

Wearing a petulant expression that belonged on someone half her age, Brynn let out a huge sigh, flopped into the empty chair beside Loki and commenced scowling.

“Quick question before we get started,” Fury began, “How’s he,” he gestured to Loki, “with technology?”

“Him?” Brynn shrugged and started swiveling her chair back and forth in place. “Great, now that he figured out he can just conjure up a new iPad every time it does something he doesn’t want it to.” She glanced over at Loki, halting mid-swivel. “How long is that last one disabled for? Forty-five years?”

Loki glared back at her. “That was not due to user error,” he said crossly. “The screen was malfunctioning and did not recognize my passcode.”

“It was malfunctioning because you got mad at Siri and _threw_ it,” she corrected.

Every line on Loki’s face read _Traitor._

“Sorry,” Brynn did not sound the least bit apologetic, “But, yeah, he’s not going to be getting a job at the Apple store anytime soon.” She went to spin the chair back in Fury’s direction but put so much momentum into the turn that she rotated in a complete circle. “Why?” she asked when the chair came around to face him again.

The Director was watching Loki, looking like a one-eyed cat who had swallowed the cream. “No reason.”

Loki made a mental note to cram every square inch of the man’s office with mildewing magazines at the earliest opportunity.

Beside him, Brynn had clapped her hands together and jumped to her feet.

“Great!” she exclaimed, talking over Fury’s admonition to return to her seat. “Briefing’s over? Good talk, boys, good talk,” she added as an aside to Loki and Banner, and then surveyed them all with a huff. “Can I go now? Or do you need me to fill out a rec form for the future Apple Genius over here?”

Banner, realizing that Loki was enjoying the show too much to intervene – in turn making him the only grown-up left in the room – paused his game and attempted to reign in the snark.

“There really is something we need to talk about,” he explained to Brynn, repocketing his phone. His wan smile grew somewhat apologetic when she looked to him. “You’d…better sit,” he advised her, “again.”

Brynn made no move for her chair.

“How’d two you get caught up in this?” she inquired instead. Her eyes briefly flickered over to Loki and then returned to Banner. “And where’s the third Musketeer? Or did Tony bug off and send JARVIS as his envoy?”

“He had a date with Pepper,” Banner explained.

Brynn’s face lit up. “I have a date with JARVIS,” she announced, latching onto this excuse like a magnet, “like, _right_ now, so I need to go –”

“Sit your ass back down,” Fury ordered.

“You forgot to say please,” Brynn snidely shot back.

“ _Please_ sit your ass back down,” he replied, placing emphasis on each syllable as if trying to buy himself every viable second to regain his patience.

Brynn spent a few moments glowering at him before she deigned to comply.

“You’re all a bunch of fucking killjoys,” she informed them all, dropping back into her seat.

Loki sobered; entertaining as these antics had been, the time for joking was over.

“This is of some import,” he told her firmly as she snatched up a ballpoint pen lying nearby and began incessantly clicking the top up and down. “Dr. Ives is not all she seems –”

Brynn melodramatically let her head fall against the back of the chair with a groan.

“God, this again?” she complained. “Your paranoia’s getting contagious.”

“Sabrina, he’s not being paranoid,” Bruce insisted.

Brynn started doodling cartoon ninjas directly on the surface of the table with her pen.

Starting to feel as though he were dealing with an adolescent Thor, Loki reached forward and grasped the arm of Brynn’s chair, swiveling it around to make her face him.

She continued to ignore him and began graffitiing the chair’s armrest instead.

“We have proof,” he told her, “And you need to see it.”

The gravity in his bearing appeared to resonate, and despite her intent to behave as obnoxiously as possible, Brynn’s common sense won out. Her pen came to a gradual halt, and her gazed trailed to the tablet as Fury pushed it over to her side of the table.

“It’s all there,” Banner explained before haplessly adding, “I – I had no idea, Sabrina. Neither did Tony.”

All of Brynn’s adolescent affectations dropped away as she warily considered the tablet. After some internal debate, she eventually went to reach for it, but then drew back. The device’s screen was standard LCD, thus making its refresh rate a concern.

“How long will it take me to see what you want to show me?” she asked Banner.

He immediately grasped the underlying meaning of her question. “How many absence seizures have you had since yesterday?”

“Six,” Brynn answered. Then, not trusting her memory, she looked to Lok for confirmation. “It’s still six, right?”

He hesitated, an instant giveaway that the total no longer remained at six.

Her face fell.

“Seven,” Loki’s voice was quiet, “You had one before I left this morning.”

“Oh.” She took a deep breath and then turned back to Banner. “Seven.”

This number must have exceeded whatever cutoff he had in mind; already half-rising out of his seat, he suggested, “Why don’t I go get the tablet Tony gave you – it’s in your room, right?”

“It would be faster if I were to show you,” Loki pointed out instead.

Brynn nodded reluctantly, and Banner returned to his seat; across the table, Fury’s attention zeroed in on Loki and held.

Loki rolled his chair a few inches closer to Brynn and swiveled her a half-turn, positioning her so they could face one another directly, their knees not quite touching. Giving her an encouraging smile – and ignoring their audience – he took a deep, deliberate breath, and then exhaled, nodding once at Brynn to do the same.

“Eyes on me,” he told her quietly, “This may feel a little different than what you are accustomed to.”

Up until now, he had only ever read her mind; guiding Brynn through his own memories would be a very different experience for her.

“How bad is this going to be?” she asked him softly.

The calm smile he wore faltered as he read the fear in Brynn’s face, and he reached out to take her hands in both of his.

“I am with you,” he reassured her, giving her fingers a comforting squeeze. “Trust in that. Now –” He drew himself up, and Brynn unconsciously mirrored his posture, “Eyes on me.”

Mindful of his own emotions – and the anger he would inevitably feel seeing Ives again in his subconscious – Loki nudged a tendril of Seidr through his fingertips and into hers. Brynn gasped and her grip on his hand tightened reflexively as the spell began to infuse itself in and around her.

“Eyes on me,” Loki repeated in a whisper, sensing her panic.

Brynn’s eyes locked with his, and the enchantment took hold.

Treading with utmost care, Loki channeled the spell’s direction and propelled it towards her thoughts to create a link. Once the bond was established, he deftly reversed the flow of Seidr and began drawing her mind towards his own. With her psyche’s approach came an assault of emerald and icy wintergreen – her perceptions of the magic surrounding them both, reflected back at Loki in tangible form.

Over the course of the next several minutes, he replayed for Brynn what he had witnessed that night, starting from the moment he saw her leave her chambers, and concluding just before the scepter had unleashed itself upon him.

He tried to spare her what little he could, but when it was over and his vision cleared, he saw that his attempts to lesson the blow had been futile. Brynn was in a dire state – trembling, breathing hard through her mouth, her face grey and covered in a thin sheen of sweat as she stared back at him in mute shock.

He could only imagine the turmoil of emotions she was experiencing. She had known everyone was lying to her to some degree, but on some level, she had trusted Ives.

Brynn pulled away from him and turned, gripping the edge of the table with both hands as she fought to process all that she had just seen. It proved too much to take in, and finally she lifted her head and looked back at Loki.

“Loki?”

Her voice was a strangled, gasping sob.

He had only ever heard that anguished desperation in Brynn’s voice once before – the first night the scepter had driven her to his chambers. When she regained consciousness, she had instinctively sought out the person she trusted most, and then decided out of blind necessity that Loki was an adequate alternative – second-best, as always.

But now it was _his_ name that fell from her lips – a one-word plea for help, for solace, for strength. She wanted _him_ – and only him.

Loki stood and roughly pulled Brynn up to her feet and into his arms.

“You never have to see her again,” he said fiercely, holding her tight, his lips pressed into her hair, “I will see to it. It’s done, _min_ _kjære._ It is done.”

She drew her arms up towards her chest and buried her face in his tunic, trying to hide herself away; had they been alone, Loki would have brought Brynn onto his lap and rocked her as he spelled her to sleep.

“How long?” She spoke in a thin, high-pitched waver, identical to how she had sounded after Ives had drugged her back into consciousness. “How long has she been doing this?”

“Months,” Loki answered, speaking into her temple. “Since she first started working with you. What you saw was from two nights ago. Banner, Stark and I met yesterday, and Stark was able to pinpoint the pattern of your sessions with her. That information is what is contained on the tablet.”

When she made no reply, Loki stepped back just far enough to gather her face in his hands and tipped her chin upward.

“I told you I would protect you and I will,” he told her adamantly. He wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb before continuing, “Ives lives today only by the grace of ignorance – my own. I knew nothing of the procedure and whether pulling you away in the midst of it would injure you further. I will not make that mistake a second time.” His voice dropped to an earnest whisper, “You’ve nothing to fear from her, _liten vannfe._ Not anymore.”

He searched her eyes for some indication that she believed him, but Brynn continued to look up at him wordlessly, and hearing his pet name for her only brought on another round of tears.

Stricken, Loki went to kiss her forehead, but then held back when he caught sight of Fury and Banner over her shoulder. Banner did not seem to know whether to hide or bolt for the door, whereas Fury was scrutinizing Loki as one would an insect under a microscope.

His eyes flashed in a silent challenge to the Director, daring him to voice his objection.

Fury, however, said nothing and did not break eye contact until Brynn eased herself away from Loki, drawing his attention back to her. She was still visibly upset and twitched as she stood before them, arms huddled around herself as if to keep herself from shattering apart completely, but she was no longer crying.

The Director’s face warmed with compassion as they waited for Brynn to speak – evidence of the man he had been in his youth, before age and experience had forever hardened him both inside and out. Unbeknownst to Loki, Fury had stepped out earlier to fetch a bottle of water, which he now slid across the table to Brynn. Banner followed suit and pulled a packet of tissues out from his pocket, setting it down adjacent to the water. Both anticlimactic attempts at empathy, but ones that nevertheless earned Loki’s grudging respect.

Brynn sucked in a shaky breath and reached for the plastic pouch of tissues.

“I don’t get it,” she mumbled, yanking one out and then looking down at it. “How does she have access to the scepter? It was always brought into the lab by a bunch of jack-booted thugs. I thought it was supposed to be locked up better than Alcatraz.”

“Go on and sit,” Fury told her, this time speaking in a manner that was very different than when he issued the same edict only a few minutes prior. “And, I don’t know,” he continued as Brynn sank back into her chair. “If I’m understanding this right, there’s a lot we don’t know.”

All animosity between them seemed to have been forgotten, and she took a sip of water from the bottle that Loki had placed in her hand, listening as Banner added, “The problem is that confronting her now will tip her off. It blows our chances of finding out if she’s working alone, or – ”

“If SHIELD has a big motherfucking leak on its hands,” Fury finished with trademark vulgarity.

“This feels like it’s got HYDRA written all over it,” Banner commented.

Brynn frowned, too puzzled over the random mention of freshwater organisms to catch the significant glare that Fury was aiming in Banner’s direction; beside her, Banner winced and mouthed an apology.

“Hydra?” she repeated. “Like an amoeba?”

“That’s more of a need to know topic,” Fury evasively replied, still glaring at Banner.

Brynn suddenly looked a little less corpselike.

“Don’t tell me,” her voice was dry, “my security clearance just got downgraded.” When Fury didn’t answer, she sighed and said, “Can you at least tell me if she put an amoeba in my brain?”

“No amoebas,” he affirmed without cracking a smile.

Brynn rolled her eyes and eased another tissue out of the plastic packet.

“So…what’s the plan?” she wanted to know. She returned the pouch back to Banner and murmured a _thank you_.

“That’s up to you,” Fury answered as Brynn started adorning the table with carefully-shredded pieces of kleenex. “I can have her taken into custody now and questioned.”

She looked up when Fury did not finish his statement. “Or?”

Fury’s chin lifted, head tilting imperceptibly as he prepared to watch Brynn’s reaction to what he said next: “Or we let her do this one last time and follow her every step of the way.”

A violent bolt of brilliant green light knifed throughout the room before she could reply, followed by a snarled, _“No.”_

Loki had been standing guard behind Brynn’s chair this whole time, but the audacity of the Director’s suggestion unthrottled his temper in an instant, and he stormed forward, hissing, “I will _not_ permit you to –”

“I’m not going to _permit_ you to complete that sentence,” Fury barked, cutting him off. Ignoring Loki’s bared teeth, the Director turned back to Brynn.

“Sabrina, I know this is a very big ask,” he told her, speaking plainly. “But it’s the only opportunity we’ve got to catch her in the act. To see how she’s gotten access to the scepter, and to try and find out –”

“Yes,” Brynn interrupted. There was no trace of hesitation in her reply; if anything, she sounded eager to help. “What do I need to do?”

Loki rounded on her, aghast. Was she mad?

“Brynn, no, you cannot _possibly_ –”

She silenced him with a scathing look. The opportunity Fury had set before her had set her alight with new purpose; her choice was made, and Loki realized nothing he could do or say would hold sway over her decision.

He tried anyway.

“Dr. Banner, surely you do not think this to be a wise course of action –”

“What do I need to do?” Brynn repeated before Banner had time to respond.

“Nothing,” Fury answered as Loki angrily stalked away from the table. “Stick to your normal routine. And keep your next appointment.”

 _Pity that Ives will be dead by then,_ Loki thought darkly. He had stationed himself by the nearby window with his back to the room, but the sky outside was overcast and provided clear reflection of the conversation behind him, enabling him to simultaneously side-ear and fume.

 _How_ could they put Brynn up to such a request, he seethed as the discussion continued, and _why_ was she so careless with her own self-preservation? Was she a masochist, or simply a fool?

Loki had decided upon _fool_ as the likelier of the two possibilities when he caught her reflection in the glass, and as his gaze lingered on her face, such hypothetical questions ceased to be of any consequence.

Yearning came into his eyes.

Brynn was not a masochist, and neither was she a fool. She was a young woman who wanted to step beyond the role of victim, and finally had a chance to do so.

“I’m not supposed to see her again until the week after next,” she was saying. “She left this morning for some national conference. I think she said it was in Seattle.”

In the window, Loki saw Banner and Fury exchange an uneasy glance.

“That gives her an awful long time for her to cover her tracks,” Banner said, voicing the obvious. He looked to where Loki stood opposite the conference table, his back ramrod straight, legs planted far apart, hands clasped behind him. “Does she have any idea if you were there that night?” he asked. “Maybe she knew she’d been caught, and that’s why she ran off?”

“No,” Loki answered. He made a slow half-turn to face them, but his posture remained rigid, “I was able to remain concealed, even upon my exit.”

Banner had picked up the tablet; mirrored in the lenses of his glasses, Loki could see the website of the American Psychiatric Association.

“Doesn’t look like she ran off,” he observed as he skimmed the APA’s landing page. “It’s a scheduled trip – she’s presenting a paper.” He paused, taking a closer look at the conference schedule. “Oh, wow, she’s one of their regulars, actually. She’s been the keynote speaker for the last five…no, six years. She’s presented a couple of papers on the use of hypnosis during cognitive behavioral therapy, but most of her research is in neuropsychiatry.”

“Okay,” Brynn ventured, “so fly casual until she gets back, and then pretend like everything is normal at my next session. Chances are she’ll bring me in for another round of ECT that night, and then you guys get me out of there before the fireworks start?”

“Correct,” Fury affirmed. If he was taken aback by Brynn’s rapid acceptance of the situation, he showed no indication of it. “We’ll sort out the details over the next few days. In the meantime, I’m dispatching one of our undercover teams to Seattle immediately – I want as many eyes on her as we’ve got. But, as I said before,” he continued, looping back to his initial concern, “This is your call, Sabrina. It’s a big ask.”

Brynn had wandered away as Fury was talking to join Loki at the window; he could not resist a sidelong glance and saw she was thinking hard, absently chewing the inside of her cheek as she watched the sky outside.

“I’ve got an ask, too,” she said after a while, turning around. She shoved her hands in her pockets and added, “Two, actually.”

“You name it,” Fury answered readily, then, remembering who he was dealing with, amended, “within reason.”

“After all this goes down, I want to see her one more time.”

Loki stiffened beside her, hearing this, but Fury seemed to think it was a reasonable request, albeit with one condition: “With witnesses.”

“That’s fine,” Brynn agreed.

“Done,” he nodded. “What’s the second?”

Her face hardened. “I get to decide what happens to her afterwards.”

“Not an option,” Fury answered flatly.

“Then find out how to make it an option,” Brynn snapped. “She’s spent the last six months fucking around with my brain, and I’m the only one who’s had to suffer consequences. The least SHIELD can do is give me the – the,” she struggled to find the word, “The courtesy of having some say in the kind of justice that gets doled out.”

“I’ll look into it,” Fury said finally. “Best I can do.”

“I don’t want to kill her,” Brynn grumbled, sounding sullen.

“Oh no, you’re more creative than that,” Fury pointed out.

Her mouth tilted up in a tired smirk. “You afraid with what I’d come up with?”

“That, and you have him over there as back up,” Fury cocked his eye at Loki. “Between the two of you, I am _very_ afraid of what you’d come up with. Add Tony into the mix and it’d be goddamn anarchy.”

Loki felt a nudge at his elbow and glanced down to see Brynn smiling up at him.

“Wanna put an amoeba in her brain?”

It was a hopeful – feeble – attempt at levity, but he was still far too agitated to be able to make light of the situation and refused to answer.

Brynn’s smile faded.

Banner’s phone started to buzz just then, sparing everyone from being subjected to yet another prolonged silence. He took a quick glance at the screen and started to stand up.

“Hey, this is Tony,” he said as he reached for the phone, “Guess his date ended early. Am I good to go here, or is there anything else…?”

“We’ll follow up later,” the Director replied, dismissing him. “Tell Tony I’ll be calling him.”

Loki felt it safe to assume that JARVIS was unlikely to be the main topic of discussion when Fury and Stark next spoke. He knew nothing of HYDRA and whatever foreboding implications that accompanied it, but Banner seemed to have knowledge on the matter, which suggested a slim possibility that Thor might as well.

Banner had lifted the phone to his ear and greeted Stark with an upbeat, “Hey, Tony, give me just one second,” and was now starting to make his way around the table in the direction of the exit. He raised his other hand in a perfunctory half-wave to Brynn as he went, followed by an awkward nod to Loki, who returned the acknowledgment with curt nod of his own.

The tinted-glass doors slid open for Banner and he stepped through, picking the up conversation where he had left off.

“What did you do to tick off Pepper this time…?”

His voice faded down the hallway, and the doors silently rolled closed. Loki returned to brooding out the window; at his shoulder, Brynn slumped against the wall, hands still in her pockets, eyes dropping to the ground to study her shoes.

“Let’s go ahead and wrap things up here,” Fury announced, using Banner’s departure as a means of bringing their meeting to a natural conclusion. “Sabrina, what are your plans for the rest of the – Sabrina?”

The confusion in Fury’s voice pierced Loki’s bubble of righteous indignation, and his head snapped over to Brynn.

His throat went dry. She was still staring at her shoes.

The heat of his anger dissipated, and the frigid sensation of dread rushed in to fill its place as he moved to stand before her, his hand already reaching for her wrist.

With the unthinking surety that accompanies any well-ingrained routine, Loki looked at her watch and noted the time. Still working upside-down, he rapidly pressed the three-step sequence of buttons to start its stopwatch, and then took Brynn’s other hand, carefully guiding her down to the nearest chair before sinking into the seat beside her.

“Can I trust you to not kill Ives?”

Fury’s rumbled query broke through Loki’s concentration; he was calculating the minutes that had elapsed since Brynn’s seizure that morning.

“No,” he answered bluntly, not taking his eyes away from her.

Fury sighed. “Can I trust you to wait until we’re through with her first?” he asked instead.

Wishing the man would stop prevaricating and get to the point, Loki dragged his gaze over to the Director.

He had leaned back in his seat and watching them with the air of a casual observer, but the small details of what he was witnessing had not gone unnoticed. Loki was not behaving in the manner of a man out of his element – he was behaving like someone who knew how to step in when their partner was experiencing a minor medical emergency and had been doing so for years.

“Why do you speak of trusting me at all?” Loki demanded, tiring of Fury’s blatant scrutiny.

A trace of that same uncharacteristic compassion touched Fury’s face once more as he considered the question. He did not reply for a long moment.

“My grandparents were married for sixty years. I don’t have a lot of memories of them,” he finally answered. “But I do remember how my granddad used to look at my grandmother. And it’s the same way you do with her.”

Loki smiled thinly. “Why, Nick. How poetic. To think that after all this time, hopeless romanticism was the key to earning your trust.”

“I don’t trust you any more than I can throw you,” Fury informed him with a snort, “But for whatever _fucking_ reason that’s beyond me, I do trust you with her.”

Startled, Loki looked down at where he had been chafing Brynn’s fingers to try and warm them. Her wedding ring sat askew on her finger, and he carefully straightened it.

“And why should that be of any consequence to me?”

Fury ignored the question and rose to his feet, an indication that the conversation had come to an end. He reached into his jacket pocket, withdrawing a folded white mailing envelope. “This came for her,” he said without any explanation, and slid it across the table.

It was postmarked a week earlier and had originally been delivered to Brynn’s apartment in Manhattan. SHIELD evidently had been monitoring her mail, and, based on the unsealed flap of the envelope, taken the liberty of reading it for her as well. There was no return address.

Concealing his curiosity – Brynn did not strike him as the type to engage in personal correspondence – Loki said, “I’ll see that she gets it.”

“When she comes to, have her get in touch with me so we can start getting a plan put together.”

“Any other errands you’d care to have me run I’m at it?” Loki smiled acidly. “Launder your eyepatch? Walk the dog? Fetch you a latte, perhaps?”

“Only if I knew you wouldn’t spit in it,” Fury answered without missing a beat.

He rolled his shoulders and tugged the lapels of his coat, straightening it before turning to leave. He was halfway to the door when he paused and turned back to look over his shoulder.

“Oh, and Mr. Laufeyson…”

Fury cocked his good eye at Loki, who lifted an indifferent brow in response.

“I’ve got my eye on you.”

Loki had been enduring fearsome, one-eyed glowers from the time before he would walk. The cyclopean stooge glaring back at him now did not warrant so much as a sneer.

An office full of musty magazines, however…

“Duly noted,” was his only reply.

Two levels below, floor-to-ceiling stacks of mildewing, waterlogged copies of _Time, Rolling Stone, People,_ and _National Enquirer_ suddenly appeared in the Director’s office, every single page bearing Loki’s face, along with the odd advertisements for Rogaine and Bosley Hair Loss Solutions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Instance of shameless author self-insertion: Doodling on any available surface when I’m irritated, usually sheep but then progressing to ninjas if I am especially pissed. My husband dragged me to one too many model homes once, and the tour wrapped up reeeeeeal quick when the realtor spotted me drawing on her desk.
> 
> As stated previously, seizures are not being accurately described in this fic. I’m taking major creative license. But hey, if the Russos can rewrite the laws of the space/time continuum, then I can totally rewrite the laws of neurology.
> 
> For those inclined, my [tumblr](wrathkitty.tumblr.com) might be worth a look-see. I’ve started posting previews from upcoming chapters, as well as pics of where I drew inspiration for Brynn’s bracelet, and what her watch looks like, because for whatever reason the plot bunnies in my head have decided her Timex deserves such due care and attention. 
> 
> Most importantly…*thank you* to everyone who left me notes and PM’d kind words after my last post. Truly. My friend’s husband passed away at home in her arms a few days after I updated. I am mentally sending all those positive vibes and warm wishes you sent me along to her and her daughter. No one should have to be as strong as they are.
> 
> See y’all in the next chapter.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes ignorance is the better choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In trying to reorder the chapters something got screwed up, and right now this keeps saying chapter 2. 
> 
> Yeah, I'm confused too.

Loki was still deconstructing his conversation with Fury when Brynn came out of the seizure, only a few seconds after the Director’s departure. She jumped, blinking in confusion at finding herself seated in a chair instead of standing by the window, and then sighed in frustration when she realized why.

“Eight,” she mumbled as Loki shifted his hand from where it was clasped around hers, using his thumb to reach her watch and stop its timer.

“The length of time between them is increasing,” he was scrolling through the numbers on the watch’s screen with a trained eye, “which means you may soon be able to begin titrating down from the Carbatrol.”

He had assumed his words of encouragement would be a comfort to her, but Brynn stiffened and yanked her hands back.

“I can take care of myself,” she told him coldly.

The rejection of his touch stung, and now that the brief crisis of her seizure was over, Loki permitted himself the luxury of indulging in burning resentment.

For all his centuries, he had precious little experience serving in the role of caretaker – save for anyone in the royal family, those who came within his orbit existed to serve _him_. Anticipating the needs, wants, and preferences of anyone beyond his own scope had never held any particular interest simply because it was never required.

Until he had crossed paths with the blasted slip of a woman sitting before him now.

Brynn had given _every_ impression of being grateful for his support in managing the lingering effects of her brain injury. Under doctor’s order to track her seizures, she obediently did so by use of Post-it notes that, despite Loki’s diligent attempts to gather them up behind her, invariably were misplaced or disintegrated in the wash. Fed up, he did some investigating and discovered her watch had the capability of storing such information but needed a software update.

One micro USB cord later, Brynn was able to dispense with the sticky notes and had accurate data to provide her neurologist when she went for a follow-up EEG. Loki had accompanied her to the appointment and was unable to suppress his unabashed pride when the doctor – visibly shocked at Brynn presenting her with a list of dates, times, and durations – looked right to him and flatly said, “You’re hired.”

 _He_ , the rightful sovereign of not one but _two_ of the Nine Realms, Allfather of Asgard, had lent her his assistance willingly – no, eagerly! How dare she be so ungrateful for his aid? He had committed her medication schedule to memory so well that even in the dead of sleep, his internal clock roused him before the alarm on her watch started to sound! “You’re a lot nicer to wake up to,” she had murmured only the day before when Loki drowsily nudged her awake at five o’clock in the morning to hand her a cup of water and two pills.

They glared at one another in stony silence until Brynn finally snapped, “You’ve got something to say, so just spit it out.”

Loki’s mouth was a thin, angry line.

“I realize you are capable of taking care of yourself, although your methods suggest otherwise,” he said between clenched teeth. “At present, however, I am trying to decide if you are of sound mind or truly this self-sacrificing. SHIELD must be thrilled to have you in their employ.”

“Well, we already know I’m not of sound mind,” she replied, smiling humorlessly. “And if you care about me, you’ll back my play.”

Loki possessed keen familiarity with the storm brewing behind her eyes, having seen it all too often in the mirror. Brynn was positively _itching_ for a fight, and lucky for them both, he was in a foul enough mood that he was all too happy to oblige.

“I care very much about you,” he retorted, “which is why I cannot allow you to do this.”

The word ‘allow’ hit its mark with pinpoint precision, and Brynn seized the bait and threw herself into the fray with zeal.

 _“Allow?_ You’re not in charge of me, Your Highn- _ass_ ,” she said hotly, “which means the only thing you’re going to _allow_ yourself to do is check your ego at the goddamn door.”

“This has nothing to do with ego!” Loki exploded, this time reacting from a place of frantic honesty rather than a petty need to provoke. “This has to do with your safety! How can you not see that?”

“Because there’s nothing to see!” Brynn’s voice raised in volume to match his, “I realize I’m basically an infant as far as you’re concerned, but here, on Earth, I’m an adult! So stop lecturing me and ditch the savior complex!”

 _“If you are an adult, then behave as such!”_ he shouted.

Dark grey eyes bore furiously into light blue until Loki’s face twisted in helpless wrath. He turned away, slamming his fist against the window in a rare display of unfettered outrage.

Spiderweb fractures instantly splintered across each layer of the quadruple-paned, bullet-glass. It repaired itself in a momentary shimmer of green, and then Loki leaned forward, forearm braced against the window, his head coming to rest against his still-fisted hand.

“I have seen a millennia’s worth of carnage,” he said dully, memories of these scenes flashing beneath his closed lids, “Witnessing you being subjected to…that…ranks among the worst. I want no part in this.”

“You said you would protect me,” Brynn said from behind him.

“An offer you now seem loathe to accept,” Loki spat back, continuing to speak to the glass rather than look at her. He could taste the ashy bitterness of his words on his tongue, and his tone harshened further, “Forgive me for thinking otherwise.”

He heard a sigh, followed by the quiet sound of Brynn’s footfall on the carpeted floor. A moment later she ducked under his elbow and slid in front of him, sandwiching herself between the space left between him and where he stood with his arm still braced against the window.

She had only recently learned to navigate the wrapped asymmetrical layers of his tunics, and now put this newfound knowledge to use; her hands and arms slipped inside the folds of leather to reach the fabric of his shirt beneath and encircled his waist. She said nothing, and simply gazed up at him, anticipating his submission with quiet certainty.

He did not keep her waiting long.

“Thank you,” she whispered when Loki’s shoulders sank in weary resignation.

“Wretched little witch,” he muttered.

How many times had he had watched his mother employ similar tactics during disagreements with Odin growing up? Her temperament had been substantially more even keeled than Brynn’s, but the Queen’s unerring ability to manipulate the Allfather into seeing matters her way was common knowledge throughout the high court.

Armed with an impenetrable argument, but always prefaced with some calculated gesture of affection – a hand on the shoulder, fussing with the collar of his vestments, or waiting out the storm with a fond smile until the king admitted defeat – and Frigga could have steered Odin right into the fires of Muspelheim if she so desired.

Loki would never be his father’s son, but some traits, apparently, were inheritable regardless of blood.

“Promise me,” he said heavily, “after this work is finished, you will allow me to take you far from this place, if only for a brief while.”

Brynn tilted her head up to look at him. “You mean like a vacation?”

“Yes,” he nodded, reaching up to brush a few strands of tear-dampened hair out of her eyes, “like a vacation.”

She brightened at the prospect and remarked, “Well, technically I’ve been on SHIELD’s payroll for the last three years. Betcha I’ve got a ton of PTO built up.”

Loki’s face softened, grateful that she had chosen to play along.

“I am yours to command, my lady,” he said with a small smile. “Where shall we go?”

He was certain that Las Vegas would be her answer, but Brynn surprised him, cocking her head and giving his question some serious thought.

“Salar de Uyuni,” she decided, “during the wet season.”

Loki was familiar with a number of the usual modern-day travel destinations on Midgard, and had visited a few of them himself – Paris, the Great Pyramids and the like, but Salar de Uyuni he had not heard of before.

“Ah. And what is Salar de Uyuni? Or rather, where is it?”

Again, Brynn startled him with her answer: “The mirror of the world.”

This fantastical name seemed more fitting of a landmark back home rather than the mundanity of Midgard, and Loki listened intently as she continued, “It’s the world’s largest salt flat. When it floods, the sky is reflected in the water and the horizon disappears. It’s in Bolivia. I saw a picture of it when I was little and always wanted to go.

“I don’t know a thing about the place,” she added sheepishly as he brought his arms around her shoulders to draw her closer, “other than that it’s…unearthly. I don’t think I can even find Bolivia on a map. What about you?” she wanted to know. “Where would you want to go?”

Loki hummed, resting his chin on the top of her head.

“The company is far more important than the destination, is it not?”

“Wow, way to make me feel like a chump,” Brynn muttered, making him chuckle.

He shifted, lightly skimming his lips and nose back and forth along her hairline as he let his imagination run wild with possibilities.

Asgard first? A race on horseback along the Bifrost, as they had once talked about? Or Vanaheim, his mother’s native realm, to the gardens where she had first started teaching him magic one sunny autumn day as a very small child, deliberately sequestered away from the tall shadows cast by Thor and Odin?

_Gods, she would have adored you._

Loki had heard by way of palace whispers that Frigga had been quite fond of Jane Foster, even given the brief time she knew her, but Brynn would have earned a place in his mother’s heart that was all her own.

The snug warmth around his waist grew cold, pulling him out of his bittersweet abstraction; Brynn had spied the envelope sitting out on the table and had gone to investigate.

“Fury left it for you,” Loki explained, hoping she did not hear the thickness in his voice as he hastily blinked away tears.

Her back was to him and he was unable to see her facial reactions as she picked up the letter, but she seemed unsurprised that it had been opened and pulled out the contents – a folded single sheet of paper – without any comment.

Loki’s innate desire to pry into any and all things made him desperately curious as to the sender. Brynn had mentioned her mother mailing the occasional card, but he doubted these missives took the form of the grease-stained scraps of lined paper. His morbid curiosity, however, shifted to concern when he saw her shoulders growing rigid with anger.

Who in Hel had written to her?

Brynn angrily crumpled the grungy sheet of loose-leaf in her fist and flung it away from her as if it had been soiled.

“Have you ever hated someone so much you wanted to kill them?” she asked without turning around.

The matter-of-fact tone in her voice was chilling – casual acceptance of the possibility that Loki had not only taken lives but done so for no other reason than personal satisfaction.

“Yes,” he admitted reluctantly.

Her head lifted. Slowly, she turned around. Their eyes met.

“Have you ever done it?”

A phantom hand clenched itself around Loki’s heart as he stared at her, scrambling for an answer and trying to understand why she was asking him such things. Brynn’s face – he knew her so well, now, and could read her subtle shifts and shadows in expression as easily as his own – was…locked-down. Flat and unfeeling, as if the parts of her soul that made Brynn so vitally _her_ had been stolen away right before his eyes. She was prone to fits of pique, but never violence, yet the woman standing before him now seemed capable of bloodshed.

“Brynn,” he breathed with mounting alarm, “what was in that letter?”

Her eyes closed, and Loki watched her head sink with a silent sigh. She reached a hand up to the nape of her neck – a leftover habit from when her hair was still long enough to pull over her shoulder and fiddle with – and suddenly she was herself again. Exhausted and worn, but herself.

“It’s from my father-in-law,” she mumbled.

The vice-like grip around Loki’s heart constricted further, but it was now an altogether different variety of pain.

Brynn had picked up the ballpoint pen and was taking it apart, unscrewing the cap from the barrel and then twisting it back together again.

“He’s incarcerated. Gets bored every once in a while, drops me a line,” she continued tonelessly, “Says he’s lonely and that I’m his last connection to Sammy and why won’t I write him back or see him. He’s like a goddamn cat, and I will throw a fucking parade the day his nine lives finally run out.”

The circumstances of Samuel Nolan’s childhood remained a fiercely guarded secret, and although Loki knew a quick request to Fury would have yielded additional information – possibly more than even Brynn knew – he had respected this boundary. But her vehement reaction to the letter compelled him to take a careful step across that invisible line.

“Is the reason for his incarceration why Sammy was placed in foster care?” he asked softly.

The pen snapped in half.

A miniature hailstorm of ink and plastic flew every which way, Brynn’s hands and clothing bearing the brunt of the explosion of ballpoint. After a moment of startled silence, a half-laugh, half-sob escaped from her, and she ruefully shook her head.

“Guess that’s what they mean by mean by a ‘tempest in a teapot,’” she murmured, using the back of her wrist to awkwardly wipe off a blob of ink that had landed on her cheek.  

Absurdity aside, there was something sadly poignant about the sight of Brynn standing before him, defeated and splattered with ink. She looked bone-weary, mortally so. Had they been on Asgard, he would have brought her to his private baths and carefully bathed away the stains on her skin before carrying her to bed, to hold her until she drifted off to sleep, buoyed by dreams he wove for her of infinite horizons that were free of trauma and fear and pain.

But they were not on Asgard.

“Allow me,” Loki requested, moving to stop her when Brynn went to scrub her palms off on the legs of her cargos.

Her eyes remained downcast as he lifted his hand and softly brushed the back of his knuckles down her cheek, leaving behind a dancing green wisp of Seidr that erased the smudged streak of ink. He reached for her left forearm next and smoothed his palms down her skin from elbow to wrist, her hand coming to rest flat between both of his own as he reached the tips of her fingers.

Loki repeated this with her other arm before moving to address the stains on her shirt, this time running the pads of his third and fourth fingers from neckline to hem down the center of her chest; shimmers of green rolled outward and washed over the fabric, taking the smeary blotches of blue with them.

Despite the intimate placement of his spell work, his intentions were utterly chaste – but Brynn’s top was constructed of the same thin material as the shirt she had worn the night before, and he unconsciously swallowed as he drew his fingertips between her breasts and down to the dip of her navel.

Brynn, however, had not broken out into so much as a single goose bump, nor had she looked his way even once. Loki initially assumed she was avoiding his eyes, but when he was finished and took a step back, he turned to follow her gaze and saw she had been staring at the balled-up letter, which had landed on the floor several feet away.

A surge of anger pulsed through his veins as he envisioned the nameless, faceless cretin that had penned whatever words were scrawled upon its surface. Much as Loki wished Brynn to be his and his alone, some degree of loyalty to Sammy had eked its way into his heart, and the disgust in his voice was palpable when he asked, “May I?”

She nodded.

Settling upon incineration as the most expedient method of disposal, he was about to aim a blast of flame in the letter’s direction when a different idea struck.

Brynn looked up in time to see Loki removing his throwing knives from the concealed pockets inside his sleeves.

“What are you doing?”

“I have been remiss in continuing your lessons,” he answered as he placed the blades down on the conference table in a straight row, “and you are in desperate need of distraction. Two birds, one stone, as they say.”

With a snap of his fingers, a wooden target spun into existence; as this finished taking shape on the far wall, the letter flew up from the floor, un-balling itself along the way to land, blank side out, against the newly formed black-and-green circle of pine.

Brynn was too bone-weary to muster much of a reaction to Loki’s display of magic and cast a skeptical eye at the target.

“This might not be the best time to entrust me with knives,” she muttered, “Besides, aren’t those things supposed to explode into feathers if I touch them?”

“Your preferred methods of coping revolve around caustic liquids, butchering your hair, or running,” he dryly reminded her. “Option one is off the table; lovely as you are, I selfishly do not wish for you to shave your head; and you are in no shape to run. As for your question – no, my sweet, these blades are corporeal, not conjured.”   

Still dubious, but willing to consider his suggestion, Brynn sidled closer and picked up the knife nearest to her, regarding it thoughtfully. She glanced up to the letter, back down to the knife, and then up to the letter once more.

Tears filled her eyes, but none fell as she fisted the hilt.

Loki, ever the perfectionist about proper form, immediately went to correct her grip but Brynn had already started storming towards the target.

Driven forward by grief and rage, she was within a half-stride of walking clear into the wall when she swung her arm back and plunged the knife into the letter with one savage, surehanded blow, cutting straight through the thick wooden target and into the metal-paneled wall behind it.

Loki looked on, dumbstruck and slack jawed as Brynn stepped back to survey her handiwork; unlike most Aesir, he knew the strength of an average mortal, and his jaw dropped further when he saw she had embedded the knife up to its hilt.

“That didn’t feel as satisfying as I thought it would,” she confessed, using her opposite arm to cradle the hand that had sustained the brunt of the impact.

“It never does,” Loki grimly acknowledged.

Brynn turned and gave him a long, searching look, and in the depths of her eyes, he could see her unspoken question – _How do you know?_

It was then that he realized he had spoken too freely.

He froze. He had justified his lies of omission by swearing to himself that in all other things, he would only ever tell Brynn the truth, and thus far he had upheld this vow. But there was nothing, _nothing_ he could say that would help Brynn truly grasp the complex machinations surrounding his decision to kill Laufey, or his crazed attempt to wipe an entire Realm off the map of Yggdrasil.

Yes, he had felt a degree of petty satisfaction after slaying the beast who sired him, this he would not deny, neither would he deny that that satisfaction was meagre at best. But at its core, his actions had truly been in defense of the crown, for in that moment he had still been a son of Odin and was protecting his father and king.

Trying to destroy Jotunheim, however…

Loki broke into a clammy sweat as he waged a vicious, silent war with his conscience, battling the decision to do what was right against the risk of losing the woman who had become the polestar in his universe.

_You had promised yourself there would be no more lies!_

“Do you want to learn how to play Pai Gow Poker?” Brynn asked without warning.

Her blurted offer threw Loki’s thoughts off-kilter long enough for him to process the pleading look she was sending him. She was giving him an out, he realized. Brynn had seen the misery on his face and recognized the torment for what it was – Loki wrestling with two choices, each of which brought its own variety of pain upon them both. Pai Gow Poker was an opportunity to spare him from the guilt of a lie, and to protect her from the sorrow that she knew might accompany his telling her the truth.

Loki’s mouth had gone dry in the interim, and his tongue darted out to lick numb lips.

“Yes,” he managed to say, “Very much.”

“Great,” Brynn’s reply came out in a rushed breath of relief, and she moved to the table to start gathering up his knives, “We need more people, though. Can you make five more of you?”

He nodded, still trying to unsuccessfully swallow the knot in his throat.

“Let’s go to the viewing lounge, there’s more space there,” she suggested, hurrying back to Loki and handing him the knives one-by-one to re-sheath, “Plus, I bet the Threepio version of you in the cape and coat of armor will be really offended having to sit on the ugly couch up there, so that’ll be extra fun, right?”

Her cadence of speech was too fast, her demeanor too upbeat – as if she was trying to whisk them out of the room as quickly as possible, before she could start regretting her decision to embrace willful ignorance.

“Right?” Brynn repeated when he still had not answered. She looked up at him anxiously.

Loki’s mouth opened and closed several times as he looked back at her, fighting endless waves of emotions and words, all comprised of equal parts guilt and gratitude.

_...Thank you for granting me this small mercy of escape._

_...I deserve no kindness, least of all from one as good as you._

_...Run from me, as far and as quickly as you can._

_...Never abandon me, for without you, I am lost entirely._

“Right,” he finally managed whisper, eyes not leaving hers.

He had not noticed the tear that had started to drift its way down his cheek, and he blinked in surprise when Brynn reached up and gently brushed away the droplet with careful fingertips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another instance of shameless author insertion! Seeing Salar de Uyuni is at the top of my bucket list. Google photos of it. It is unearthly and beautiful and is the closest place on Earth that I could pretend I’m Jodie Foster when she finds herself on the alien version of Pensacola in _Contact._
> 
> I successfully redesigned my [tumblr](http://wrathkitty.tumblr.com) and feel all badass about it.
> 
> Last -- thank you to all who reviewed and kudo'd. These last few weeks have sucked, and getting those alerts in my inbox mean so much to me. <3


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The calm before the storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get ready for a lot of expository text. Also, ahoy there to those who are faint of heart, **thar be smut ahead…!** (Cue the chorus of readers saying, "It's about damn time!")
> 
> Also-also – you will be getting bogus chapter update notifications in the next little bit. I’m adding a prologue and tweaking the order of the first two chapters -- nothing is changing with the actual text (the prologue is a section from chapter 1, so you’ve already read it), but I have to create an additional chapter as a result. The first time I attempted to do this was a complete clusterfuck, and I’m doubtful I’ll get it right on the second try either, but I wanted y’all to know I’m not trying to troll you with chapter updates, and I am sorry in advance if my Ao3 ineptitude results in cluttering up your inboxes.

The days that followed were some of the sweetest Loki could recall since his childhood. He and Brynn were left to their own devices, and short of the times she went running, they were rarely apart. Had it not been for the ever-present shadow of Dr. Ives’s eventual return looming over them, he would have described this time as almost carefree.

And if anyone took notice of the fact that Brynn had started spending every night in his chambers, they had enough sense not to mention it.

How they occupied their days was of little consequence. Her knife-throwing lessons resumed in earnest, and although the first time Brynn successfully hit the target did not culminate in a kiss as Loki had once fantasized, she did throw herself into his arms with a gleeful whoop of triumph, both of them laughing as he spun her around in celebration.

She took up her old habit of prowling the Helicarrier, her efforts beautifully enhanced now that she was equipped with both an invisibility bracelet and sorcerer on-call. Thanks to her brainchild and Loki’s magic, Fury spent the morning shift wearing a rhinestone encrusted eye patch, an accessory that he failed to notice until returning to his recently-fumigated office, where he then discovered -- after the fact -- that his antihistamines had been transformed into Viagra.

Loki marked Brynn’s first full week of being seizure-free with an impromptu fireworks show off the top of the Helicarrier’s Air Traffic Control nest – for while it was true that all aboard were at the mercy of SHIELD’s 360-degree infrared cameras, cold-blooded reptiles were not, especially one small dragon in possession of opposable thumbs and a modest supply of pyrotechnics.

Most evenings found them in his chambers, sharing the tablet and watching a movie, other nights playing cards, or sometimes indulging in what Brynn coined ‘Loki Coasters.’ He had been thrilled to learn that she was as much a ‘speed junkie’ as he, and after sharing her memories of various amusement parks, Loki was able to design his own Seidr-fueled virtual reality rides that left both of them giddy and high on adrenaline.

He noticed she was spending more and more time running. He finally thought to sneak a look at her watch one evening when she was in the shower and discovered that the distance she ran each day was slowly trending up. It took him a few moments for his mind to make a connection, but he soon recalled the comment Brynn had made weeks earlier:

_He was after me for years about trying to train for a marathon, and I'd always tell him he was insane – that the human body isn't mean to run that far, and that's why cars were invented._

Loki met her outside the following afternoon dressed in athletic shorts, sneakers, and a T-shirt.

“How many miles are in a marathon?” he asked as Brynn openly gawked at him.

She bit her lip, then murmured, “Twenty-six-point-two.”

“Let’s go, then,” he said simply.

It seemed to be an unspoken rule for them both to not acknowledge whatever it was that continued to build between them. Loki was growing bolder by the day in showing his affections, usually in the form of lingering hugs or quick caresses here and there – and while Brynn was perfectly willing to accept these overtures, she never reciprocated beyond giving him the occasional embrace.

There were missteps.

His attempt to surprise her with the long-forgotten satchel he had absconded from her apartment the day they first met had disastrous results. Brynn immediately dug through its contents to withdraw the laptop; after plugging it in, she turned it on and went straight to a file saved on the desktop.

A black-and-white ultrasound picture appeared, showing the profile of a baby. Loki left her staring the screen to quietly step out to the washroom and vomit, and then returned a few minutes later to find she had already shut down the laptop and was balled up on the chair, soundlessly sobbing.

But amidst the missteps were also glimmers of promise.

Brynn tended to latch onto him like a magnet at night, and while it was not unlike being bedfellows with a limpet, Loki welcomed the close contact. He developed the habit of absently playing with her wedding ring as they were falling asleep together, usually spooned beneath the blankets, Loki curled around her from behind with one arm draped over her waist, holding her hand while his thumb idly twisted the broad band of gold back and forth on her finger.

The ring was intimately associated with Sammy. Yet Loki now felt an odd sense of comfort knowing she had been loved so well by the man who had come before him, who had fallen so rapidly in love that he started setting aside funds to buy Brynn a wedding band only days after meeting her – a secret he did not own up to until many years later.

“We were both in so much debt from student loans that I gave him a plastic spider ring as a joke the night before our wedding,” Brynn mused when she was relaying the story to Loki one afternoon. They were sitting on his bed, learning to play _Cards Against Humanity._ “I knew we couldn’t afford wedding rings. And then the next day I find out he not only had bought me a ring, he had gotten it from Tiffany’s. _Tiffany’s!”_

Brynn’s eyes dropped down to her left hand and she let out a watery laugh as she remembered.

“I’ve never taken it off,” she added, “Not once, not even in the hospital. A nurse told me afterwards that I came out of the coma long enough to throw a fit when they tried to take it off me.”

Her voice had grown distant, her mind having drifted to that faraway place it occasionally wandered – a place where Loki was slowly learning to accept he could not accompany her.

“Tore out my ventilator tube and everything,” she continued softly, “They finally just gave up and taped it to my finger.”

The poignant pride in Brynn’s words did not escape him – that even being near-death could not overpower her loyalty to Sammy.

Hence his heart-stopping shock later that evening when they were lying in bed. He reached for her hand, as usual; his thumb drifted across her ring finger, and instead of the sensation of smooth metal, he touched only skin.

Brynn – understanding why Loki had gone rigid behind her – grasped his wrist and brought his hand to her chest, pressing his palm flat over her heart. She said nothing, but her silence conveyed far more than words ever could.

It was that night that a fierce but terrible hope began to bloom in Loki’s heart.

* * *

A few days before Ives’s scheduled arrival, Loki came up behind Brynn one morning as she was about to leave for a run and gave her a hug. He had not intended to linger but she fairly melted into him with a quiet sigh, her sneakers forgotten on the floor, and without thinking, he lowered his head to kiss to the underside of her jaw.

Her breath caught.

His heart stuttered.

Treading with care – convinced she might flee at any moment – Loki drifted down and pressed another lingering kiss into the curve of her neck.

Brynn leaned her head back towards his, nuzzling his cheek, and then automatically tilted her head to her opposite shoulder as Loki went to attend the other side of her neck, this time with soft, barely open-mouthed kisses.

His ears were beginning to roar as he grasped Brynn’s shoulders and turned her around to face him – and his mouth went dry when she gave him a hesitant smile and murmured, “I didn’t tell you to stop.”

Eyes locked with hers and heart pounding faster with every passing second, Loki guided her a few steps back until they reached the bed. Slowly he helped her lie upon the blankets, following her down on his hands and knees as she pushed herself back towards the pillows.

“I will be as gentle as I can,” Loki told her, bracing himself above her with both arms, “But I am fearful of…getting carried away.”

She looked up at him in puzzlement. “What’s wrong with getting carried away?”

Loki grimaced, remembering the times he had inadvertently bruised her in the past.

“I am much, much stronger than you, _liten vannfe,”_ he reminded her quietly.

Realization dawned on Brynn’s face.

“I’ll tell you,” she promised. She reached up her hand and hesitantly traced the line of his jaw with her fingertips, and his eyes drifted closed as she added, “I trust you…and I don’t think you could hurt me even if you tried.”

The words, _“Min frelser,”_ fell from his lips in an absent mutter when he heard these words.

What a marvel this woman was. This fragile, damaged mortal, whose courage outstripped the fiercest Valkyrie when she had held him in his Jotunn form, and whose compassion allowed her to still see the man beneath the beast. The blinding light of a potential future with her far eclipsed the horrors of his past, flooding his soul with hope that perhaps redemption _was_ possible, even for one such as he.

“Loki?” He felt her thumb sweep up and down his cheek. “What’s wrong?”

Lids still shut, he smiled with a small shake of his head before opening his eyes.

“Nothing, _kjærlighet,”_ he assured her, “Nothing is wrong. For the first time in more years than I care to count, everything seems to be right. And it is all thanks to you – _min lille dronning.”_

“Are you ever going to tell me what all these nicknames mean?” Brynn wondered aloud, letting her hand drop away.

They both had been speaking in hushed tones all this time, but Loki’s voice grew husky as he leaned close and feathered his nose and mouth against her cheek.

“My salvation,” he answered her softly in her ear. She pulled back with a startled exhale, but he gave her little time to process this revelation and continued on with his murmurings. “My love,” he tenderly tucked her hair back and kissed her temple, and then moved to kiss the velvety spot of skin behind the base of her ear, “My little queen.”

Brynn released a longing sigh as Loki allowed his lips to briefly ghost across hers over hers, following it up with a grumbled whine of frustration when he did not linger.

Shifting his weight, he eased onto his side, peppering kisses along her collarbone as he continued, “My water fairy,” there was an edge to his words now, filled with promise of what was yet to come, “Mine,” he finished hungrily, “always, always mine.”

Using Brynn’s running shorts to his advantage, Loki reached down and firmly swept his hand along her bare skin from her knee all the way up to her hip, deliberately spread his fingers wide to ensure his thumb dragged along the inside of her thigh. He did not stop when he reached the apex of her legs, and tucked the lone digit beneath the fabric of her shorts and into her underclothes.

Brynn’s fingers digging into shoulders told him he was correctly reading her cues, yet he still felt a rush of shock when his thumb slipped between her folds and was met with slick, velvety warmth. He exhaled sharply; she was _wet_ , so exquisitely coated that all intentions Loki had of making their first encounter careful and slow promptly flew right out of his head.

The tenderness in his eyes warmed to smoldering heat, and a knowing smile came over his face as he leaned back to look at her.

“Why, darling,” he chuckled wickedly, “And to think all this time _I’ve_ been the one concerned about getting carried away,” and then gave an experimental stroke with his thumb before she could reply.

Brynn shuddered, twisting and pressing her face half-into the pillow. Stubborn pride was driving her to internalize her body’s wanton responses to his touch, and the fire in Loki’s eyes ignited further, his blood thrilling to the challenge of making her come entirely undone beneath his hands – and growing rock-hard at the mere thought of what the experience would entail.

“I thought you said you were capable of controlling your baser instincts,” Brynn panted when she was able to speak again. She turned her head back to face him but then gulped; he had leaned in so close they were almost nose-to-nose.

“I am more than capable, my dear,” his voice dropped to a low rumble, “but allow me to warn you that those instincts are very, _very_ base. Shall I demonstrate?”

Brynn’s casual half-shrug stood in direct contradiction to the yearning Loki saw in her eyes. “Sure,” she gasped.

This single breathless utterance ended in a quivering moan as he found her most sensitive spot and began gliding the pad of his thumb against the swollen bundle of nerves. Changing speed and pressure based upon the shallowness of Brynn’s breathing, he alternated between lazy circles and long, vertical strokes, flexing his knuckle as he went to create additional surges of friction.

Try as he might to lead with his brain and not his cock, however, the increasing slipperiness between his fingers, combined with the sound of her helpless panting soon meant Loki was in danger of becoming entirely undone himself. He was so engorged that not even plate armor could have concealed his erection.

Steeling himself, Loki drew upon centuries’ worth of self-discipline and stalwartly re-donned his role as calm and collected seductor.

He ducked his head and used his teeth to tug down the neckline of Brynn's shirt, exposing her left breast, and then began to leisurely suckle his way along the silken curves.

“More?” he lightly inquired, pausing.

Her reply was a groaned curse of pleasure.

Chuckling darkly, Loki changed the angle of his hand and thumb and then began attending her left side – and grinned outright as she cursed a second time.

When he noticed she had started to fist the sheets, Loki dragged his lips back up along her breast and neck and withdrew his hand from beneath her clothes, pushing back up on his forearm to admire the mouth-watering result of his efforts.

Brynn looked up at him in a daze, flushed and speechless, her top deliciously askew, and her breathing grew ragged as he moved to settle himself between her thighs. He was unable to repress the sharp hiss that escaped from him when his aching shaft – by now swollen, heavy and leaking inside his trousers – came to rest snugly against her, but he quickly recovered and reached back, hooking her knee over his elbow.

“I am going to ravish you,” Loki informed her as he, “I am going to ruin you,” he gave a slow thrust of his hips, grinding his length into her, “I am going to put you through such sweet agony that you will _beg_ me for your release. But until I hear you _screaming_ my name,” he thrust his hips again, harder, “until I see you _writhing_ beneath me,” the word ‘writhing’ was uttered in a strained grunt, and he drove against her one last time, “only then will I give you relief.”

She stared up at him, open-mouthed and wild-eyed.

“You – talk – too much,” she panted.

Loki’s smile was sin in its purest form, and he dipped his head to nip her lower lip.

“You belong in my bed, Brynn Nolan,” he whispered against her mouth, “and by the end of this night, you shall never want to leave it.”

A tremor went through her the moment he uttered these words, and he felt every muscle in her body go rigid beneath him. Loki froze and drew back, alarm dampening the heat of his lust when he saw her eyes were welling with tears. She did not look away but said nothing, and started to tremble the longer he studied her face.

Understanding came into his eyes. “Too much?”

Brynn gave a tiny nod. Loki immediately went to release her, but she shook her head and clasped his cheeks between her hands.

“I don’t want you to stop,” she choked. Her fingers curled into his hair and held fast, “It just got to be too much, for a second. I…I’m okay now.”

His face softened. She was clearly responsive to being roughly handled, but it was still too soon.

 _Slow_ , he reminded himself.

Loki gently disentangled himself from her grip and straightened to kneel back on his heels as Brynn tugged her shirt back into place. Clasping her hands in both of his, he pressed a kiss to each of her palms, subtly resetting the impassioned atmosphere by keeping his every move slow and relaxed. He drew her left arm around his waist, and then interlaced the fingers on her other hand with his own before he eased back down to her once more.

“You realize the problem with this,” Loki murmured teasingly as he continued to close the gap between them.

“What?” Her voice almost inaudible.

“We shall have to do it all over again,” he lips lightly brushed against hers, “with our clothes off.”

He had just started to kiss her when Brynn gasped, _“I can’t!_ I’m sorry, I’m sorry – ”

Loki instantly rolled off and away from her. They lay alongside one another for a few seconds, both gasping for breath, until she whimpered and balled up on her side opposite him.

“It’s all right,” he rasped, but he was so erect that it was physically painful. His mind and body had been several steps of the game, already anticipating the sensation of sheathing himself deep within her for the first time and then taking her slowly, deliberately, until they both were no longer able stand such a languid pace and –  

“It’s all right,” Loki dizzily repeated.

Brynn had sat up and was sitting with her face buried in her hands. He took another ragged breath and pulled her down to him in a one-armed hug.

“It’s all right,” he told her a third time. He was actually starting to mean it now.

“This is just all so fucking complicated,” he heard her moan into his shoulder.

“I like complicated,” Loki insisted.

Brynn let out a derisive laugh and lifted her head to look at him.

“No, I mean really, really complicated.” She took a deep breath and explained, “Loki, Sammy and I were together from the time we were fifteen. There’s never been anyone else _but_ him.”

An awkward moment of silence elapsed before Loki realized he had been staring.

“….Oh,” was the only response he could think to muster.

“I know,” Brynn muttered. “I’m a widow who’s only ever slept with the same man, and then I meet you, Mr. Twelve Hundred Years of Dalliances. Like I said: complicated.” She miserably pressed her face into his neck, mortified.

Concealing his amusement, Loki kissed the top of her head. “You know my heart, _liten vannfe,”_ he said into her hair, and then drew back. “And contrary to whatever misconceptions you persist in clinging to, I am a patient man.”

“Yeah, well,” her eyes flicked back up to him, “what if you stumble into one of your immortal fuck buddies in the meantime?”

He knew she was speaking in jest but her words felt like an icy slap to the face all the same. “Don’t be a fool,” he told her seriously.  

“I _am_ a fool,” she cried. Brynn shoved herself away from him to sit up again, “I’m a fool and I’m scared and right now all I want is for you to rip my clothes off and let you keep doing what you were doing – all of it! I want everything! I want you do whatever you want to me! But,” her voice broke, “then all I can think of is Sammy and –”

“And that is why I am going to ensure that you keep your clothes on,” Loki interrupted her. As if to demonstrate this point, he reached forward and began fussing with her shirt, which hung over-stretched around her shoulders as a result of his earlier attentions.

“Were you a monk in a previous life or something?” she asked skeptically when he finished readjusting her top.

Loki replied with a polite cough and took a deliberate-down-and-up glance at the enormous bulge at his crotch. She followed his gaze, balked, and then fought to keep a straight face when he gave her a wink.

“I can say with utmost certainty that I have never been a man of the cloth, in previous lives or otherwise,” he smiled, “But when you are as old as I, a – what’s the phrase? A _dry spell_ has a somewhat different meaning.”

Brynn perked up, cat-like. “How long of a dry spell are we talking about?”

She was all curiosity now, her embarrassment forgotten, and began to protest in earnest when Loki ignored her demands to elaborate and rose from the bed.

“Just throw out a number!” she said, exasperated by his reticence to confess. “I know you said there were a lot but, like, what are we talking? Double digits? Triple digits?”

Loki looked away, but not in time to avoid seeing the humor alight in Brynn’s eyes falter.

“I don’t want to know the answer to this question, do I?” he heard her mumble behind him.

In truth, he had lost track of the number early on in his youth, as it had not taken long for his idealistic view of love to be shattered. The few to whom he chose to open his heart either saw him as second rate or a stepping stone to Thor, and after finally accepting this painful reality, every woman to grace his bed since were encounters borne solely of physical need and loneliness – and, thanks to the fact his prowess was such that none ever left unsatisfied, he was never in lack of a partner.

Brynn was sitting cross-legged on the edge of the bed, hands in her lap and face downcast when Loki turned back around. He came to stand before her, cupping her chin in his palm when she refused to look up, but her gloomy expression changed to puzzlement as she watched him sink to his knees and gather her hands in his.

“Hear this and listen well, Sabrina Mae,” he said, looking up at her intently. “Age is no measure of experience, and certainly not in matters of the heart. I have lived many your lifetimes, but in all those years, amidst all those _dalliances_ …” He saw her lips press into an unbidden smile, and his face grew boyish, such was his earnestness to reassure her as he finished, “None have I longed for as much as I do you.”

Brynn’s gaze drifted down to their hands, still unconvinced.

Loki gave her fingers a quick squeeze. “Do you trust me?”

Her eyes shot back up to his. “Of course I do.”

“Then trust my patience,” he said simply. “Of all the things for you to concern yourself with in the coming days, this should not be one of them. I will be faithful to you, always.”

Her chin started to tremble when he told her this; Loki gently tugged her down from the bed and brought her onto his lap, but he was not certain she had truly taken his words to heart until she wrapped her arms around him as tightly as she could and whispered, “Me, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not some Twilight thing where they have to wait for the sacred bonds of matrimony to do the deed. There’s purpose in dragging it out.
> 
> I mean, other than fucking around with you guys. Which I’m doing. Because I am a horrible person.
> 
> In all seriousness, as I’ve written Brynn, at this point she’s still not capable of that level of intimacy. Those who have been paying attention may notice that aside from one or two instances when she’s feeling particularly bold (or high as a kite on Xanax) she has yet to truly reciprocate any of Loki’s advances.
> 
> HOWEVER. How smutty do you want Sucker’s Luck to get? My original intent was to keep things fairly vanilla, but that can be...tweaked...if folks indicate otherwise.
> 
> As always – massive amounts of thanks and appreciation to everyone who has kudo’d and commented.  
> <3


	26. We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In celebration of Sucker’s Luck reaching 100 kudos – as well as wanting to prove that I’m not a complete sadist who derives sick pleasure from putting her characters through emotional hell – I present to you a one-shot from a Sucker’s Luck AU.
> 
> Note: This is very, _very_ AU, in which the Battle of NY never happened, and Brynn never got married. It in no way aligns with the other Loki and Brynn (sorry/not sorry), and it is so damn sweet that I needed an insulin shot afterwards.

 Meet the Parents

* * *

 “I don’t understand why you’re so nervous,” Brynn grumbled.

“And I do not understand how you’re _not_ nervous,” Loki retorted as he fussed with the drape of her gown. “I was terrified the first time I met your mother.”

“Bullshit,” she snorted, “You had her eating out of your hand in the first five minutes. Gifting her an entire pound of pot didn’t hurt, either.”

Loki smiled at the memory of his mother-in-law’s reaction to being offered Brynn’s dowry – a tastefully-wrapped box of Asgardian triple grade-A marijuana.

“I merely wished to open negotiations for your hand on a positive note,” he shrugged, now straightening the necklace he had given her only that morning – an oblong shard from the Bifrost that he had stolen in his youth right under Heimdall’s nose.

“We were already married, dummy.”

“I wished to retroactively open negotiations for your hand on a positive note.”

“Getting my mother high counts as cheating.”

“Well, it worked, didn’t it?”

“If by ‘worked,’ you mean spending an entire afternoon watching Mom get lit and interrogating us about grandchildren, then, yeah, it worked beautifully.”

“Speaking of –”

“Don’t even start,” Brynn gritted, and then smacked his hand away as he tried to readjust the side braid that he had plaited at the crown of her head. The effect was very pretty, but had taken some effort due to the length of her hair, which she had recently cut quite short in what Loki suspected was an act of defiance to both Odin and the customs of Asgard.

The large double doors before them opened, slowly swinging apart to reveal the throne room. At the far end Loki could see his father seated at the top of the dais, along with his mother standing beside him, her hopeful, anticipatory expression visible even from a distance.

Loki took a deep breath, smiled at Brynn and offered her his arm.

“Ready?”

“Yup,” she nodded, “Let’s do this shit – I mean,” she grinned at Loki, who responded with a sigh of resignation, “Let’s get this over with.”

They had traversed almost half the length of the aisle when Loki felt Brynn’s arm slip out of his. Turning back to see why she had fallen behind, he saw she had stopped mid-stride and was looking up at the ceiling.

Loki grimaced, knowing at once what had caught her attention: The mural of the royal family, a depiction of Frigga and Odin standing together, flanked on either side by the princes – Thor looking glorious, and Loki...

...looking as if he had spent the majority of his childhood antagonizing every artist in Asgard, who had in turn eked their revenge in a manner that even he had to admit was clever.

“Who the hell painted that?” Brynn exclaimed, pointing. Her inquiry ended in a squeak as Loki grabbed her hand and began hauling her forward once more.

“Seriously!” she protested, “Can’t they Photoshop that out? That doesn’t look like you at all! You look like a pit viper!”  

Loki tucked her arm back under his and doggedly continued walking, “We can discuss it later!”

Brynn was still trying to argue with him by the time they reached the base of the dais, but had enough sense to fall silent after making eye contact with the king and queen. Loki respectfully knelt down on one knee in obeisance; on his left, Brynn executed a perfect curtsey (she had spent the better part of a week watching videos of Kate Middleton on YouTube for reference), and both waited to be acknowledged.

Loki could feel Odin’s glare boring through them. He was familiar with this tactic: Intimidation through silence.

“Can I stand up?” Brynn finally asked in a stage-whisper to Loki.

A muffled laugh came from Frigga, followed by Odin’s bark, “You may rise.”

Brynn shot to her feet; next to her, Loki slowly came to stand in a far more elegant manner befitting a prince.

“Father, Mother,” he said, solemnly nodding to them both in succession, and then formally drew Brynn forward before them, “May I introduce Sabrina Nolansdottir of Midgard?” he ignored her eye roll in response to the amending of her last surname, “My wife.”

Frigga instantly stepped forward, beaming as she hurried down the steps of the dais to embrace Loki and then Brynn, who returned the hug with an uncharacteristically shy smile.

“We have been longing to meet you, my dear,” Frigga said happily as she stepped back, holding Brynn by the shoulders to admire her, “Loki has told us so much about you that I feel as if I have already made your acquaintance.”

Brynn’s smile grew somewhat fixed. “That could either be good or bad depending on what he’s told you,” she answered nervously.

“All good things,” Loki reassured her with a laugh.

Frigga turned, still beaming, and held her hand out to the king in invitation for him to join her.

“May I introduce Loki’s father and king of Asgard, Odin Allfather?” she said with a gracious smile as her husband rose from the throne and descended.

Loki was careful to maintain a neutral expression as he watched Odin slowly approach, the latter’s expression equally inscrutable. It was anyone’s guess how the next few minutes would unfold.

Odin came to stand before Brynn, saying nothing as he proceeded to look her up and down, every line in his face conveying his disapproval of his daughter-in-law, who stood with her hands clasped behind her, looking back at him just as boldly under his scrutiny.

“So,” Odin finally intoned, “Another mortal who wishes to grace the halls of Asgard.”

“Um, no,” Brynn stomped on Loki’s foot in response to him elbowing her in a futile reminder that she was not to speak until directly spoken to, “We’re good with staying in Nevada. But we could visit. Actually,” she added brightly, inspiration coming to her at the most inopportune moment possible, “that’s probably a huge export opportunity for you guys. Selling marijuana on Amazon just got legalized. I don’t know how you could do Prime two-day shipping through the Bifrost but –”

 _“Silence!”_ Odin bellowed, slamming Gungnir down on the floor for emphasis.

Brynn’s eyes slitted, but she said nothing as Odin turned to Loki in irritation and demanded, “What purpose is there in bringing her here?

“To have her recognized as a princess of Asgard,” Loki replied coolly, “A title that, as my wife, is rightfully hers.”

The wife in question -- looking appalled -- flashed a tight grin at Odin and said, “Excuse us for one second,” before yanking Loki back to her. _“Princess?”_ she hissed at him furiously. “Are you high!? You never said anything about this!”

Loki’s eyes flicked up to his mother, who gave the faintest of nods in response. For the first time that day, he broke out into a genuine smile, kissed Brynn’s forehead, and turned back to his father, eyes now blazing with conviction.

“I would have her recognized as a princess of Asgard, Father,” he repeated, this time with a tone of command.

“She does not belong in Asgard anymore than a goat belongs at a banquet!” Odin snapped.

Brynn’s eyes flashed, her smart-aleck mouth rising to the occasion, as per usual.

Storming forward, she retorted, “I’ll see your goat and raise you a whole fucking farm, you one-eyed asshat –”

“Gods, Brynn,” Loki moaned, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration, “don’t make this worse –”

Deciding that it would be more productive to simply let their respective spouses have at it, Frigga put a calming hand on Loki’s shoulder and drew him a few steps back, linking her arm in his.

“Oh, let her make it worse, darling,” she laughed, delighted, “I absolutely adore her. This is the most entertainment I’ve had since you and your brother were children.”

Loki watched uneasily as Odin and Brynn continued arguing.

“Are you not afraid Father might spell her into silence?”

“I fear for your father’s ego far more than I do for your lady,” Frigga replied, eyes twinkling.

Loki glanced over to her and then huffed. “He knows,” he said accusingly.

Frigga smirked. “He knew before you did.”

“Then why the theatrics?” he demanded.

The shouting escalated, drawing both Loki and Frigga’s attention away before she could reply.

“You are an impudent, small minded, foolish mortal who is unworthy to be a companion to anyone in this realm, let alone my son!”

“Oh, wah, wah, wah, you weirdo Cyclops mall Santa; I wouldn’t trust you to raise a barn let alone a kid.”

It was then that Loki noticed that Brynn’s cheeks had started growing beet red with fury, never a good sign. Time to bring the games to a halt, he decided.

 _“Enough!”_ he shouted, voice reverberating throughout the throne room.

Both Brynn and Odin stopped short and looked over in unison to Loki, who proceeded to cock an eyebrow at his father.

“Satisfied?”

A ghost of smile crossed Odin’s face.

Brynn immediately picked up on the unspoken communication between the two men and scowled.

“What, did I pass inspection?” she demanded snidely. “What’s going on?”

Ignoring her, Odin walked over to Loki, who stood ramrod straight, both physically and emotoinally braced for whatever might come next.

“I will grant your request on one condition,” the king said at last.

“Name it,” Loki answered tightly, and then stiffened when Odin lifted his hand and placed it on Loki’s shoulder.

“Bring my granddaughter to visit from time to time,” he said quietly, “I would like to know her, and your wife…who is clearly more than qualified for the job.”

Loki’s heart stuttered, hearing these words, and for a few moments stared at his father in speechless astonishment.

“Y-yes,” he finally stammered, “Of course.” Never in his wildest dreams had he thought he could ever consider Asgard home again, and now…

This intensely emotional moment between father and son was interrupted with a grouchy, “Could someone buy me a vowel? What’s going on?”

Loki tore his eyes away from Odin to look at his wife, who was standing beside Frigga wearing a confused expression – which shifted to one of apprehension when Loki’s countenance changed from dazed to jubilant.

Smiling, he swiftly walked over to Brynn and cupped her chin in his hand, tilting her face up to look her in the eyes. 

“I’ll give you three guesses,” he whispered, smiling down at her.

Brynn looked up at him blankly.

“You’ll let me use your helmet for Christmas ornaments?”

Smile broadening, Loki shook his head and leaned in for another kiss.

“Try again,” he murmured against her lips before drawing back.

“Fuck, I don’t know!” Brynn exclaimed, frustrated. “Can I have a hint?”

Loki shook his head, grinning now.

“Two guesses left, darling. Better make them count.”

Brynn huffed and tried again.

“You’ll let me buy a ferret?”

“You just wasted a guess,” Loki said with a delighted laugh, and then kissed her once more, longer this time. “One left.”

“I _told_ you, I don’t know!” Brynn exploded.

“All right,” Loki acquiesced with a wink. “ _One_ hint.”

She scowled at him. “A _good_ hint. None of your stupid cryptic riddles.”

“No riddles,” he reassured her, this time clasping her cheek in his hand as he went to brush her lips with his own once more.

“That’s not a hint,” Brynn snapped.

“I know,” Loki replied with a smile that was equal parts wicked as it was soft. “Now hush.”

“Bite me –”

Loki cut her off with another kiss, fingers tightening slightly into Brynn’s hair as he brought his other hand up between them to rest flat against her abdomen. He felt her freeze and gentled his mouth in response, affirming that she had guessed correctly at last. 

“Did we just make our parents grandparents?” she asked weakly when they broke apart.

Loki’s smile told her the answer.

Stunned, Brynn leaned forward and buried her face in his tunic. Loki held her tightly, his chest so alight with happiness that he could scarcely breathe, but grew concerned when she continued to say nothing.

 _“Liten vannfe?”_ He pressed his lips to her temple, “Are you all right?”

Voice muffled, Brynn’s reply drew laughter from Loki, his mother, and – shockingly – his father, as well.

“I really, really could use a joint.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We now return you to your regularly scheduled angst.


End file.
